


Captive

by dancermk



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alpha Ian Gallagher, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Army, Claiming Bites, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Fluff, Homophobic Language, Hostage Situations, Ian and Mickey discuss suicide, Ian is a soldier, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Mickey Milkovich, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rutting, Smut, Telepathic Bond, This is a bit dark and intense but always a happy ending with me!, Violence, War violence, fated pair, mention of a rape, mickey is an illegal arms dealer, mpreg is a possibility in this omegaverse, non graphic torture, still laying on the romance pretty thick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27489844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancermk/pseuds/dancermk
Summary: THIS FIC IS NOW COMPLETE! ENJOY!When 1st LT Ian Gallagher, an alpha serving in the 75th Ranger Regiment, experiences the worst day of his life, he also comes face to face with Mickey Milkovich - a notorious arms dealer with the 'Ukraine Five.' Unbeknown to Lt Gallagher, Mickey is an omega posing as an alpha to appease his father.  This fic is set in war torn Syria in 2022.EXTRACT:Terry has done a lot of damage over the years, so when Mickey thinks about wanting a mate, someone who loves him, and he loves, he only feels shame.  He is the only omega in the family and Terry forces him to pretend to be an alpha. He bathes in an alpha scent wash every day and his clothes are washed in it too.  Combined with the scent blockers it fools most people—he makes sure he never gets too close to anyone—but in this cell he couldn’t hide it. How many days would it take before this fiery redhead would smell him?  How many days before he would be in heat? Maybe ten, fifteen, if he was lucky.  Why hadn’t they just fucking killed him?
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 384
Kudos: 449





	1. The Mission

**Author's Note:**

> Well this is my first A/B/O and I'm excited to write this! This fic will be very Mickey and Ian centred (with very few other characters so we can take an in-depth look at how their relationship builds.) This first chapter is quite action driven, the A/B/O elements of the storyline will really kick in from chapter two onwards. I hope you enjoy!

Mickey swallows deeply as he approaches the meeting location. Everything feels fucking wrong. And if there’s one thing he’s learnt during his 28 years on earth, it’s to trust his gut. He eases his foot off the accelerator and uses the truck’s mirrors to scan the road behind, searching for a sign that will back up his instincts.

“What the fuck are you slowing down for, you dumb shit?”

Mickey glances at his father, Terry, sitting in the passenger seat next to him in the military grade truck they use to transport their product. All this shit is Terry’s fault; Mickey never wanted this life, but he has no fucking clue how to get out of it. “Somethin’s not right, Pops,” he replies, keeping his eyes trained on his surroundings. “Think we should fuckin’ abort.”

“Bullshit! This deal is solid. We’ve done business with them before. You’re a fuckin’ omega pussy coward is what you are. Now get us there on time or Iggy can drive on the next run.”

Mickey puts his foot down on the accelerator and wonders if he gives a shit about anything anymore. He’s been raised a criminal, and he’s done shit that keeps him awake at night, but selling weapons to the enemy in war torn Syria feels like sinking to the bottom of the barrel. Terry is right, he is a coward. How many years will he pretend to be someone he’s not? Pretending to be an alpha, pretending to be straight, pretending he’s okay with being a violent, low life piece of shit.

As he pulls the truck in behind the building, he makes a deal with himself. Tomorrow he’s packing up his shit and going home. Starting afresh. No more Terry. No more pretending. He’s done. If Terry sends someone looking for him, he’ll put a bullet between their eyes. If Terry comes looking for him, he’ll bury that motherfucker alive. As an alpha, Terry may be stronger, but Mickey is smarter.

Terry bangs twice on the truck cabin to alert Iggy, Colin, and Joey that they are about to exit the vehicle. His brothers need to be ready should they require backup. They will also unload the truck and move the product into the client's waiting truck—parked about 60 feet in front of them. Mickey has two pistols and a knife on him and he’s sweating like a swine in his bullet-proof vest. “Here’s to fuckin’ nothing,” he mutters under his breath as he reaches for the door handle.

*****

Ian watches the second truck pull up, then shifts his weight from his right to left foot. He’s been in the army almost five years, but still experiences a bout of nerves the moment before it’s about to go down. The instant they get the order to engage, he will unleash the strength that’s inside him and he will be in full control. But something feels off today. Unable to put his finger on what it is, he glances between the two trucks trying to notice any anomaly, a growl rumbling deep in his chest.

“Gallagher, my gut is not happy bout this,” Lieutenant Taylor murmurs, adjusting his rifle.

“You’re not fucking wrong, Taylor,” he replies, taking a quick glance at his friend Jake.

Their mission is to intercept an illegal weapons deal between a rogue militia group and the notorious arms dealers they call the Ukraine Five. Intel is pointing to the group being US citizens, so their orders are to detain. The militia group are considered highly dangerous, and they have the authority to use lethal force if the militia resist arrest. 

From his vantage point inside the building, Ian observes the two dealers exit their vehicle and move forward toward the militia’s truck. The platoon is stationed in this building and one on the other side of the road, both inside and on the roof, surrounding the men involved in the exchange. Ian knows his commanding officer - Captain Holt - will not give the order until they have established how many men there are, and have eyes on them. In other words, Ian needs to sit tight.

Every soldier in his platoon is an alpha; betas not considered for the Ranger regiment. Sometimes he wonders if it’s an advantage—it’s not uncommon for fights to break out when they are waiting between missions. And they are all keen to demonstrate their capabilities when in combat. Ian is a first lieutenant and heads up a squad of seven men. A couple of them are young and, in his opinion, a little trigger happy. They need to learn to control their instincts more.

Two men from the militia truck make their way towards the arms dealers. Ian notes the semi-automatic rifles slung over their shoulders and their baby faces. They couldn’t be more than 20 or 21. “Dumb fucks,” he mutters to himself. The dealers are possibly father and son; an older man in his late 50s and a younger man in his late 20s. They are similar in height and build, and while the older man is gray, their hair is similar. 

The men negotiate; he can’t hear them, but he can tell from their voices the exchange is tense and somewhat hostile. The older arms dealer increases his volume and Ian watches the younger man shuffle from foot to foot as he looks around nervously. It seems he’s not the only one who has a bad feeling about this exchange. One of the militia men calls out and another young man exits their truck with a suitcase, then approaches the group. Taking the suitcase, the older man opens it to check the contents, appears satisfied, then closes it and calls out _Colin_.

Ian can feel a bead of sweat making its way down his spine, between his shoulder blades and settling in the curve of his back. He needs to wipe the sweat off his hands but doesn’t want to risk lowering his rifle at this crucial moment. He hears Jake growl a few feet away at the next window and responds with one of his own. 

Three men exit the back of the arms dealer truck, carrying large wooden crates. The younger man joins them, and all four men move the weapons from their truck to the militia's truck. They make their way backwards and forwards between the two trucks and Ian is surprised there only appears to be three men in the militia group. That doesn’t feel right. The Ukraine Five are well known, and it would be risky for this militia group to attend an exchange outnumbered. 

“Taylor, can you confirm only three men in the militia group?”

“Affirmative. Seems…wrong.”

Captain Holt’s voice comes through his earpiece, “Stand by to engage.”

Ian is about to voice his concerns to his commanding officer when it happens. The sound is deafening as the bombs explode. He moves towards Jake, screaming commands to evacuate the building as it crumbles around them. His ears are ringing as they emerge into the street. The dust is obscuring his vision and his anger rises and rises. The building is collapsing, and they need to move to avoid being crushed. He can see the flashes of gunfire but cannot hear it, the high-pitched piercing in his ears painful as he grabs hold of Jake and pulls him away from the building. It is only then he realises the other building has also been bombed.

As the dust settles, and his mind clears the reality of the situation hits him. “Taylor, retreat south,” he yells, forcefully turning the lieutenant to face south. They take two steps and Taylor falls to the ground, blood spurting from his back. Ian knows he’s dead before his body hits the ground, and for the first time in his military career, he feels uncertain of himself.

Not knowing where any of his squad are, and his radio silent, he fears the worst. Then the hot metal of a pistol connects with the back of his head and he freezes. The smell of a powerful alpha fills his nostrils. In that moment, he thinks of his family, the sadness of not seeing them again. 

But the pistol doesn’t fire.

And he isn’t dead.

His rifle is stripped off him by a second alpha and then he is being dragged away. The instinct to attack is undeniable, but he knows from his training that his best chance of survival against two armed alpha’s is to accept his fate. For now. As they push him into the back of the truck, a hood is pulled over his head and then everything goes black.

*****

Mickey is on his way back to his father when the bombs explode. He drops to the ground, covering his head. His ears feel like they are bleeding, and he struggles to decide on a course of action. Reaching for one of his pistols, he lifts his head to look around, the dust thick. He closes his eyes and starts trying to crawl towards their truck, but his body feels like lead, adrenaline coursing through his veins and leaving him paralysed. As his hearing returns, he hears Terry, “You motherfuckers! Gonna fuckin’ kill you all.” Mickey thinks the voice is getting closer, but he can’t be sure, he is so disoriented and nausea grips his stomach. 

“Die you motherfuckin’ cun-”

A body lands on top of him, knocking the fucking wind out of him. It’s his father; he knows instantly from the smell before he can push him off and see for himself. Once he does, he is met with his father’s face blown half off. He freezes. So many emotions run through him—relief, happiness, disbelief, and a strange hint of sadness. 

There is blood splattered all over him and he almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “I told you so, you stupid motherfucker,” he mutters. Looking around, he sees both buildings are nothing but rubble. There are dead soldiers scattered around and one of the militia men is lying face down 20 feet away in a pool of blood. Mickey scans up and down the road for his brothers, but there’s no sign of them.

Movement to the right catches his eye, and he sees a soldier being dragged away by the militia, a deep growl rumbling in the man’s throat as he struggles to submit to the will of the men. Then Mickey’s being pulled up to his feet, a gun pressed to his temple. The two men speak in Arabic, so he has no fucking clue what they are saying. But the one holding a gun to his head seems to disagree with the other, his voice getting louder. Mickey can smell alpha all over them, and he’s thankful for his omega scent blockers.

Part of him thinks this is karma coming to collect. It seems a fitting way for his life to end, the day before he planned on turning it around. Irony has always followed him. But he’s ready to die. His only regret is never getting to love someone. Or be loved. Chuckling out loud at how fucking gay, how omega he sounds, he closes his eyes and waits for impact.

Except it never comes.

Yanked by the arm, they lead him toward the militia truck, then push him into the back. The last thing he sees is the soldier slumped over, a man tying his hands behind his back. Then a hood comes down over Mickey’s face and a sharp pain erupts at the back of his head.

*****

When Ian comes to, his head throbs with pain. He can barely lift it off the ground and he struggles to keep his eyes open. It’s a fucking serious concussion, he knows that, but he forces himself to sit up anyway. The room is spinning, and he has no fucking idea where he is or what happened. The nausea comes at him fast and he throws up. There’s nothing in his stomach, so it’s just bile and then dry heaving. Leaning back against the wall, he closes his eyes and tries to slow his breathing.

A few minutes later, his memory kicks in. It’s just flashes—the dust, the sound of the bombs, Taylor falling dead in front of him, being shoved in a truck. Overcome with both anger and sadness, he pulls his knees into his chest and rests his head on his knees. Failing his men hits him hard, shame washing over him. He wants nothing more than to gain his strength and kill every one of those motherfuckers. And he will. 

A sound on the other side of the room forces him to open his eyes and focus. He’s not alone. Ian watches the man moan in pain as he rolls from his back onto his side. 

“Motherfuckers,” the man mumbles, hands lifting to his head.

Ian pushes off the wall and battles his shaking legs to stand up. The man isn’t aware of him yet; he’s facing away toward the wall. Ian moves across the room, realising it’s the younger man from the Ukraine Five. When he reaches him, he squats down and takes a deep breath. The man has a weird alpha smell. It doesn’t seem right. Ian has met a lot of beta’s trying to fake being an alpha, and he’s almost certain this is the case in front of him.

Ian wants to kill him. To make him fucking pay for his part in the bloodshed of his men.

But Ian might need his help to get out of this fucking cell. They are being held captive, there’s no doubt about that. The army does not negotiate with terrorists, so if he wants out, he must do it himself. He looks around the barren room—no windows, one light, concrete floor, and one door with thick bars. This man may be worth something to someone, and maybe it’s the only chance Ian has. He needs time to plan his attack. His escape. Maybe this man can give him that. But after, he’s as good as dead as far as Ian is concerned. A growl rumbles low in his chest, hardly audible, as Ian works at containing his murderous thoughts.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” the man moans as he rolls onto his back, hands still covering his face.

Ian grabs him by his shirt and jerks him up fast, so they are face to face. “Christ is the only fucking person who can save you now,” he spits at him. The man gasps in shock, eyes shooting open as he struggles to get away. Ian holds him in place; he’s no fucking alpha.


	2. Captivity, Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter continues on from the end of chapter one when Ian is confronting Mickey for the first time in the cell, and covers the remainder of their first day in captivity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The men holding Ian and Mickey are a radicalised Muslim terrorist organisation. There is NO intent to defame nor degrade the Muslim religion whatsoever! This is a fictional story for entertainment purposes only. And as man has weaponised religion (all religions) throughout history for a myriad of reasons (power, money, etc) this just borrows that idea as a setting for this romance story!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

“Get your fuckin’ hands off me,” Mickey yells, trying to shake himself free of the soldier’s hold. 

The soldier pushes him—releasing him with a deep growl - and Mickey backs away, chest heaving. Once he’s sure he’s out of danger he takes a quick glance at his surroundings. The room is about 15 by 20 feet with only one door—or more accurately—a cell door. It’s a concrete fucking cell with no natural light, a bucket in the corner and a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. His mind is foggy from the concussion. Reaching up to touch the back of his head, his fingers come away wet, the red liquid on his fingers mesmerising him for a second.

The soldier has moved away and is investigating the mechanics of the cell door. The man is tall, around 6 foot, with fiery red hair. Mickey breathes in, filling his lungs with the alpha’s scent, and panic grips at his gut when the reality of the situation hits him. He’s trapped in this tiny fucking cell with an alpha and no heat suppressants, no scent blockers. Mickey is fucked if he doesn’t get out of here really soon. To make matters worse, he finds the scent alluring - the musky, woody smell setting off an instant sexual arousal.

Over the years he’s become an expert at switching off his instincts, the fear of being killed by his father an instant dampener on his sexual desires. Mickey rarely goes off his heat suppressants and has only endured three heats in his life. All of them locked in a room with sex toys as he suffered through days of pain and anguish, fucking himself raw on giant dildos. He’s 28, gay, and never been fucked by a man. And as much as he wants to experience it, it also terrifies him. What if this fucker goes into a rut and rapes him? What if his captors line up and take their turn with him? Mickey isn’t stupid; he knows his body would beg for it, even if it wasn’t what he wanted. 

Terry had done a lot of damage over the years, so when he thinks about wanting a mate, someone who loves him, and he loves, he only feels shame. Mickey is the only omega in the family and Terry forced him into pretending to be an alpha. He bathed in an alpha scent wash every day and his clothes were washed in it too. Combined with the scent blockers it fooled most people—he made sure he never got too close to anyone—but in this cell he couldn’t hide it. How many days would it take before this fiery redhead could smell him? How many days before he would be in heat? Maybe ten, fifteen, if he was lucky. Why hadn’t they just fucking killed him?

Taking a deep breath, he says, “Hey G.I. Joe, you got a plan?”

*****

Ian snaps his head around to look at the dark-haired man sitting on the other side of the cell, back against the wall. “You think this is fucking funny, asshole? And it’s Lieutenant Gallagher to you.”

“No, I don’t think this is fuckin’ funny, _Lieutenant._ Do you know what the fuck happened?”

Ian walks over to him, the man quickly rising to his feet. His eyes wander up and down the man’s body, taking him in. He’s short—maybe 5’7”—with black hair and full lips. Ian looks into his vivid blue eyes and sees glimpses of fear and panic staring back at him. In other circumstances Ian would find him attractive, but he pushes the thought aside. “Since you’re fucking dumb as mud, I’ll explain. It appears the militia group were tipped off about us being there and we walked straight into an ambush. Now my men are fucking dead and I’m fucking here thanks to your dumb fucking ass!” Ian pushes him hard in the chest, slamming him back against the wall just to emphasise his point.

“Yeah? Back the fuck up Joe. That doesn’t explain why they’ve taken you and me hostage, does it?”

Ian can’t believe the guy has the nerve to step forward and try to eyeball him. “You gotta a fucking death wish? Who the fuck do you think you’re fooling? I know you ain’t an alpha. I’ll fucking snap your neck, you weak ass piece of shit.”

The man walks away to the safety of the other side of the cell. “You don’t know shit.”

Ian laughs. This guy is deluded, and he fucking hates him. “I know a fucking alpha wash when I smell one, dickhead. Why don’t you try being a fucking man and accept you’re a beta? Have some fucking self-respect.” Ian pauses, rubbing his hand over his aching head. “My guess is they think they can ransom us. Will your family pay? Cos the army won’t.”

The man turns around to face him, looking a little calmer. “Think all my family are dead. My Dad is, saw his face fuckin’ blown off. Didn’t see any of my brothers, so they’re probably dead too. Don’t think they’ll be getting any fucking money for my ass.”

“Fuck.” Ian paces the cell, trying to get his brain to function, his head continues to throb like a motherfucker. “You got no other family? And what’s your name?”

“I got a sister, but none of us have seen her for years. I’m Mickey. Milkovich. You’re a fucking Ranger man—the army ain’t gonna leave you here to rot.”

Voices drift through into their cell. “Shh,” he says to Mickey, holding up a hand to stop him from speaking. Ian walks over to the cell door, pressing his ear between the bars. He knows a very limited amount of Arabic and listens to see if he can identify any words. He makes out ‘army,’ ‘killed,’ and ‘weapons’ before the voices drift away again.

Turning to face Mickey, he says, “The army probably doesn’t know where the fuck we are. If they do, they might consider a rescue mission, but they won’t pay a ransom. And who the fuck knows how long they’ll keep us for? If they don’t get their money, we’re as good as dead. I’ll tell you what’s gonna happen. We’re going to work together to get the fuck out of here. But once we’re clear, I’m taking you in and if you try to run, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes. We clear?”

“What the fuck ever. Do what you gotta do man.”

“What the fuck is your problem?

“My problem? My family just got murdered, you selfish prick.”

Ian lets out a growl as he storms across the room and pins Mickey to the wall. “You think I give a shit about your dead family? You, and your dumb fucking family dealing weapons is the reason my men are dead, and I’m in this fucking cell. You are the worst kind of scum. Those assholes you were selling to use those guns to kill innocent people, they rape women and recruit children.”

“Like I said, you don’t know shit about me.”

Ian closes a hand around Mickey’s neck and squeezes. His alpha strength pulses through his veins. “I know everything I need to-”

At the sound of approaching voices, he lets go and moves back toward the cell door. Four men approach—all armed, all alpha’s—and he reluctantly steps back. One man, maybe in his 40s with a long beard and dressed all in black, assesses them, then speaks in English, “Both of you, hands and face on the back wall. Now.” Ian assumes he is in charge and weighs up his options before moving. Mickey follows his lead. 

The cell door is unlocked and makes a scraping sound as it opens. Then a rifle is poking in his back. He glances sideways as two men grab Mickey and pull him off the wall. Mickey yells profanities as they drag him out. 

“Don’t fucking move. If you play nice, you’ll eat today.”

The rifle is removed from his back and then he hears the key in the cell door. Ian hopes Mickey doesn’t get himself fucking killed on his first interrogation; not because he cares if he lives or dies, but because his chances are better if there’s two of them. Eyeing the bucket in the corner, he decides to relieve himself.

*****

Mickey fights hard as they drag him out of the cell and down a long hall. But there’s really no use, so he stops, deciding to conserve his energy for if he needs it. They turn a corner and pass one door, then they take him into the second room and push him into a chair. He thinks they are underground as this room has no windows either. 

A camera sits on a tripod in front of the chair, confirming Gallagher’s theory that they plan to ransom them for money. The man who speaks English comes to a halt in front of him and another man stands behind the camera, picking up a large piece of cardboard—it’s the script he will have to say. Mickey has never seen this English-speaking man, but he is undoubtedly in charge. His alpha scent is strong, overpowering the other alpha’s in the room, but there is something rank about it and Mickey feels repelled. Out of the other three men, he only recognises one from the exchange. As they converse in Arabic, Mickey berates himself for not learning it when his father wanted him to.

The man in charge leans forward, amusement on his face. “So, Mikhailo Milkovich, we have killed your father and two of your brothers. Colin has escaped as we planned. We have your sister, Amanda - pretty girl, they tell me - back in the U.S.” 

Mickey’s anger rises at the mention of Mandy. “You motherfuckers better not touch her.” A bolt of pain pierces his temple as the butt of a rifle smashes against his head. His vision blurs and he almost falls off the chair. Next thing he knows, his hands are being secured behind his back.

“Mikhailo, Mikhailo, you stupid fucking American. Speak to me like that again, and I’ll cut your fingers off one by one. My name is Amir Gazzah but like a good American you will call me sir. Do I make myself clear, Mikhailo?”

“Fuckin’ die, you piece of shit!”

Amir presses a pistol to his temple, and he holds his breath, waiting for death. “Last chance Mikhailo, do I make myself clear?” 

Mickey thinks of Mandy and how she doesn’t deserve any of this. “Yes _sir_ ,” he responds, lifting his chin and looking Amir in the eyes.

“Much better, Mikhailo. Now you are going to look into the camera and read what’s on there,” Amir says, pointing to the card one of his men is holding up.

Amir steps aside and another man steps in behind the camera, nodding to Amir once they are ready to begin. 

“Begin Mikhailo,” Amir commands.

Mickey scans the first few lines then starts, “I am Mikhailo Milkovich and I have seen the light. I vow to serve the ‘Hiriya Almuquatlin’ militia. Colin, you are to arrange a money transfer of one million US dollars to fund the great work we are doing here in Syria. If you do not, I will sacrifice our sister Amanda who I hold captive. You have fourteen days. Praise be to Allah.” 

Mickey barely has time to lean forward before he empties the contents of his stomach all over the floor.

*****

Ian spends his time studying the cell door hinges and locking mechanism while listening for any voices. He can see down the hall, which is about 20 feet long before it splits into two, leading left or right. He’s certain they are in some sort of basement level. About thirty minutes go by before he hears people moving toward the cell, then the same four men are approaching, dragging Mickey along. There is blood on Mickey’s temple, but otherwise he seems unhurt. 

“On the wall, Lieutenant.”

Ian makes his way across the room, placing his hands up against the wall. He knows if it wasn’t for his military training, he wouldn’t be able to control his alpha instincts and he would attack—even knowing he has little chance of survival against four armed alphas. If they weren’t armed, his decision would be different. The man in charge is a powerful alpha, and Ian knows it would be a close battle if they were to engage in a fight. Escaping this hell hole could very well depend on the man’s absence. 

Two men shove Mickey up against the wall next to him and then he is being pulled away. He doesn’t resist, he needs to focus on gaining intel. Once they are out of the cell, he counts how many steps until the hallway splits right and left. He looks right and sees a short hallway that leads to steps going up. They pull him left, and the hallway on this side is longer with three doors all on the left side. They pass the first one and then push him into the second, where he is seated, and his hands and feet are bound in heavy ropes.

There is a camera set up in front of him and he tries to weigh up the pros and cons of giving them what they want. If he does it, the military may garner clues that help determine his location. Looking around the room he notes it is empty bar the chair he is sitting on - perhaps the only defining feature the lack of windows which would inform army intelligence he is being held captive underground or in a basement. If he refuses to record the video, he opens himself up to torture, or death, but gives intelligence more time to locate him. Neither option is positive.

“Lieutenant Gallagher, my name is Amir Gazzah and I am the head of the ‘Hiriya Almuqatilin’ militia.” Amir circles around Ian as he speaks. “Your platoon is dead. One of your stupid young alphas was easily lured in by one of our beautiful girls and gave us all the information we needed.” Amir throws his head back, laughing almost hysterically. Ian growls, baring his teeth and thrashing against his restraints. His arms are almost free when a knife is placed across his neck. He stills, his chest heaving with rage. 

“Calm down Lieutenant before I spill your blood. We never intended to take any military hostages, but one of my young alphas thought you might be valuable, being a Ranger. So, let’s get down to business. You will record what we tell you to say and we’ll give your American army a week or two to deliver. If not, I look forward to beheading you on Facebook live.”

The knife is pulled away from his throat and he relaxes. But his decision is made; he will try to delay the recording. For now. 

*****

Mickey has just pissed in the bucket and spent the last five minutes contemplating the humiliation of taking a shit in front of Gallagher. It’s been over an hour since they took the soldier away and he’s getting edgy. Mickey isn’t sure what is worse—being held captive alone in this cell or with Gallagher. His headache is finally easing, and he feels more alert. The gash on his head isn’t too bad, it has stopped bleeding along with the wound on the back of his head. 

He’s trying not to think about Mandy. He hasn’t seen her in five years, but he will never forgive himself if she is raped or killed because of his actions. Iggy and Joey are dead. His brothers are dead. Fucking dumb shits but he loved them all the same. Would Colin find Mandy and save her? That’s all he wanted. That’s all he cared about. There was no way Colin could raise a million. Yes, 500k was possible, but not a million. Mickey knew he was as good as dead.

When he hears footsteps coming down the hall, he assumes his position facing the wall. He doesn’t want to give anyone an excuse to come near him. By tomorrow he won’t smell like an alpha. He won’t yet smell like an omega—that will take a few days—but his days of pretending are over. 

The cell door opens and there is a conversation in Arabic and then a thud. Mickey glances over his shoulder and sees a bloody and beaten Gallagher slumped on the floor, barely conscious. He watches two men bring in food and water and two blankets before they all exit the cell. Only when he cannot hear them anymore does he turn around and take in the room. There are four slices of bread on a plate, a jug of water, and two dirty looking blankets. 

Mickey approaches Gallagher, scanning his body to see what they’ve done to him. One eye is swelling and already turning black, he has bruising around his neck and a small cut across his throat. He squats down and studies the man’s face while his eyes are closed. There’s no question he is beautiful in an unconventional way. Mickey likes the colour of his hair and the sprinkling of freckles over his face and arms. His lips are perfect, and Mickey wonders for a second what it would be like to kiss them. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, wondering what sort of asshole thinks of that when the other person is in pain.

“Gallagher?” he says, gently touching his shoulder.

Ian moans and blinks, trying to get his eyes to focus. “Think those motherfuckers broke a rib.” Ian pulls up his shirt, revealing a chest and stomach littered with black and blue bruises. Mickey has been kicked like that more than once in his life and he knows how much is hurts. It hurts to fucking breathe for a few days. Ian rolls onto his back, his abs contracting with each shallow breath he takes. The man’s body, even in this state, ignites something primal inside him. He’s spent his life suppressing his lust for men, but Terry is dead, and he feels different. Crazy ideas filter through his head, then he reminds himself that Gallagher hates him, wants him dead, or at least in prison. And likely none of that matters anyway, because they will be executed in fourteen days. 

“Gallagher, can you sit up? They brought us bread and water. You should try to eat something.”

“Fuck off, Milkovich. We’re fucking dead, anyway.”

Mickey chances it and grabs Ian by his shoulders and pulls him up to a sitting position, so he can lean against the wall. Ian groans in pain but doesn’t object. The alpha’s scent is alluring, and Mickey struggles with his desire to bury his face in the man’s neck and saturate his skin in it. Instead, he retrieves the bread and water and brings it back.

“Here, drink,” he says, bringing the jug to Ian’s lips and tipping it up. Ian watches him as he takes a few sips. There is conflict on Ian’s face as he tries to reconcile being grateful for this kindness with the anger he holds for Mickey. Once he’s sure Ian has had enough to drink, he puts the jug down and passes the soldier a slice of bread. 

“It won’t change what I think of you, so you needn’t bother,” Ian says, voice thick with hate. 

“You think you know me Gallagher, but you don’t. So why don’t you eat your bread and shut the fuck up.”

Mickey sets up a blanket on the other side of the room and eats his two slices of bread before washing it down with some water. He’s still hungry. It must be late at night - there’s no way to tell with no windows -and he’s bone tired. Gallagher is across the room finishing his bread but watching his every move. The temperature is dropping, and he knows they are in for an uncomfortable night with rumbling stomachs and cold bodies. 

Mickey gets up and retrieves the other blanket, laying it out next to Ian. “Roll onto it, man,” he instructs. Ian struggles to move but manages to lie down with a few grunts, then Mickey folds the blanket over the top of him so it’s like he’s in a sleeping bag. “Try to get some sleep, you’ll feel better tomorrow. First twelve hours are the worst with a broken rib.”

Mickey takes himself across the other side of the room and lies down too. The light is annoying as all fuck, so he buries his head under the blanket. The floor is hard, and he can feel the cold seeping through the blanket from the concrete floor.

“Thank you,” Ian says in barely a whisper.

Mickey wants to make a snarky remark but stops himself at the last minute. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs.

“How did you break your ribs?”

“Let’s just say my Pops wasn’t winning parent of the year anytime soon.”

A few minutes pass by and Mickey thinks Ian has fallen asleep. 

“Night, Milkovich.”

“Night, Gallagher.”

The alpha's scent is filling the small cell and Mickey inhales. He finds it comforting, so he closes his eyes. A sense of safety washes over him, even though he’s anything but. He says a silent prayer for Mandy and allows sleep to take him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huriya Almuqatilin = (if i've researched correctly) means Freedom Fighters
> 
> I am working on chapter 2 for "Meet me at the track" and hope to have that up by Thursday - all going well!   
> My business was finally allowed to open last Monday after 7.5 months of government enforced closure due to covid so I am working extremely long hours as I try to save my business (and do more cleaning than is humanly possible). Therefore, I may not be able to post on as strict a schedule as I have done previously. However, my intent is to write normal length chapters of 2-3k so I can get chapters out frequently for both this fic and Meet me at the Track. (i.e. still aiming for one chapter for each fic per week but sometimes this may end up being delayed by a day or two.
> 
> Please subscribe, Kudos and comment if you are enjoying this fic! I really appreciate it!!  
> You can find me on Twitter @dancelovermk   
> Thank you for reading!  
> Take care,  
> Rachael x


	3. Captivity, Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up to their first full day in captivity!

When consciousness hits, Ian is acutely aware that everything is wrong—he’s cold as fuck, his head is pounding, his eye throbbing, and his entire body feels heavy and stiff. Slowly, it all comes back to him; the bombs, being taken, refusing to make the ransom video, and a man named Mickey Milkovich.

Lifting the blanket off his head, he opens his eyes and squints into the light. His right eye isn’t swollen shut, but it is affecting his sight. Breathing in, he registers an unfamiliar smell—one that wasn’t there yesterday. It’s very subtle and quite pleasant, and if he could get more of it, he would. As he sits up, he remembers his ribs and moans with pain. He had assumed they were broken, but now he thinks they might just be badly bruised. 

Mickey is asleep on the other side of the room and Ian takes another deep breath, his body still curious about the sliver of sweetness drifting in the air. He knows Mickey has been using an alpha wash which would now have worn off, so he assumes this is the man’s beta scent coming through—even if it seems too sweet for a beta.

“Fuck,” he mutters, the moment he remembers his rut blockers. Trying to count backwards, he figures it's been about two-and-a-half weeks since his last injection, meaning his next injection is due in about a week-and-a-half. Not long after that he’ll likely be dead anyway, so he shouldn’t worry. The army keeps all alphas on a tight leash, and Ian is glad because he struggles to control his sexual desires without the blockers. Being gay just adds to the stress. 

Ian gets himself up to standing and makes his way over to the bucket to relieve his bladder. The sound causes Mickey to stir and Ian watches him for a second; he looks softer in his sleep, almost gentle and vulnerable. The way Mickey cared for him last night took him by surprise and gave him cause to reflect on his initial response to the man. He, of all people, knows what it is like to be judged, so maybe he owes Mickey the chance to explain himself. They will have to work together if they have any chance of surviving this. 

*****

Mickey hears the sound of water, and for a second, he forgets where he is, and what has happened. Barely opening his eyes, he sees Gallagher finishing a piss in the bucket, his incredibly long cock on full display. As his own cock hardens in response, he pretends he’s still asleep, his mind caught up in the fantasy of seeing Ian hard, the man’s scent filling his nostrils and fuelling his desires. 

Obviously, he’s been around alphas during his life and become accomplished at keeping his lust under control. But this alpha’s scent is intoxicating in a way he has not experienced before. Maybe it’s because the two of them are sharing a small, enclosed space or because his own alpha wash is no longer in the air diluting it. Either way, it both excites and scares him in equal measure. Mickey wants nothing more than to reach into his pants and stroke himself, all the while pretending it is Ian’s hand or mouth around his dick.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the cell door opening, fear overtaking his sexual arousal as he bolts upright, readying himself for whatever is to come. Two men stand with rifles pointed at both he and Ian, while a third removes last night’s water jug and plate and replaces it with more of the same. Mickey observes the way Ian’s eyes scan over the men, watching their every move as a long low growl rumbles in his chest. It’s sexy as all fuck.

Once the men have gone, Ian turns to him. “You notice they turned to the right at the end of that hallway? There are stairs leading up. Did you see anything useful when they took you yesterday?”

Mickey stands up and takes his morning piss, replying over his shoulder. “Shit, sorry man, I didn’t notice anything. Just remember the room they took me to.” Zipping his pants back up, he moves over to the food, grabs his two slices of bread and stuffs one in his mouth. He’s fucking hungry. Ian’s eye isn’t as bad as he thought it would be and it surprises him that Ian is getting around so well this morning. “How’s your ribs?”

Ian rubs his hand across his ribs as he speaks, “Don’t think anything’s broken, but my head is still fucking pounding. Let’s sit, I need to know what happened when they took you yesterday. Tell me every fucking detail.” Ian grabs his bread and picks up the water jug, then sits back down on his blanket. 

Following Ian’s lead, Mickey drags his blanket over to Ian’s and takes a seat facing him. He takes a few sips of water as he watches Ian devour his bread. “They took me to a room that had no windows and a camera on a tripod. Other than that, the room was bare. We’re in a fuckin’ basement or somethin’.”

“Agreed. They took me to the same room. You made their video, I’m assuming. What did they make you say?”

Mickey rubs his hands over his face, just the thought of repeating it makes him nauseous. “They made me speak as if I’ve joined them. Am one of them. The video was for my brother, Colin. That fuckwit Amir told me my other two brothers are dead, but they let Colin get away intentionally. He also told me they have my sister held captive back home.” Mickey turns his head away, tears threatening to spill as he thinks of Mandy.

“You fucking serious? What’s your sister’s name? These motherfuckers will sink to any level to get what they want.”

Mickey looks back at Ian, fury in the soldiers eyes and teeth bared in anger.

“Her name is Mandy, and she doesn’t deserve this shit. I don’t care if I die, all I want is for her to live.”

Ian reaches out and squeezes his forearm. It’s so unexpected, he flinches at first. As he relaxes a warmth flows through his body. “Mickey, I understand. I have two sisters and if they had them…fuck, I don’t know what I’d do.”

Ian pulls his hand away and looks at him, waiting for Mickey to continue. “I had to ask Colin for one million U.S. or they kill Mandy. They said he has fourteen days to pay.”

“A fucking million dollars? Does your family have that kinda money? Will he get it?”

“He might get half a mill but there’s no way he can get a mill. Don’t know why this fucker Amir thinks we have that kinda money. I’m sorry, man.” Mickey stands up and walks over to the cell door, wondering if Gallagher is going to lose his temper. But a full minute ticks by and Ian remains still, staring into space. “Look Gallagher, I know you want to get out of here and you don’t deserve any of this bullshit, but all I want is for Colin to find Mandy and save her.”

Mickey waits another minute or two, then returns to sit opposite Ian. He looks like a man who has given up hope, and Mickey finds he doesn’t like it. “Ian, why did they beat the shit out of you yesterday? Are they holding you for ransom too?”

Ian finally looks at him; soulful green eyes staring back. “They wanted me to make a video - no fucking idea what about - because it never got that far. I refused to do it. Amir promised he’d slit my throat if I didn’t do it today. It wasn’t part of their plan to take me, so I don’t think they care if I live or die. Their objective was to take out my platoon and send a message to the U.S. government and to capture you. It’s going to get them the publicity they want, and the money they need to fund a fucking civil war.”

As Ian speaks, all the blood drains from Mickey’s face. He doesn’t want to be in this cell alone. It’s clear to him now that Gallagher is an honourable man, and he will be safer with him. Mickey also understands that Ian will put what is right, or moral, over his own life. Why he is concerned about the life of a man he met less than 24 hours ago is beyond him, but it doesn’t make it any less true. Driven by instinct, he edges forward, his desire to nuzzle into Ian’s neck, to breathe in his scent, suddenly overpowering.

“Lieutenant Gallagher!”

Mickey jumps back at the sound of Amir yelling as he approaches the cell. And he’s fucking grateful it has jolted him back to reality. What the fuck was he thinking?

Ian is already up on his feet and heading to the back wall. Mickey follows suit as Amir and four other men enter the cell, armed and stinking the place up with their alpha scents. Now that he has a taste for Ian’s scent, he wants nothing else.

They take Ian out and Mickey slides down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor, silently praying for Ian to make the video and not be a fucking hero. When he’s sure they are gone and he is alone, he slips off his right boot and lifts the insole. The heel is hollow, and in it sits a small pocketknife. Returning the boot to his foot, he weighs up the pros and cons of telling Gallagher.

*****

Ian sits in the same room again, wrists and feet bound, but this time he’s ready to record whatever fucked up message they have planned for him. If there is one thing Ian understands it’s sibling love. Watching Mickey almost breakdown over the thought of losing his sister, of his willingness to sacrifice his life for her, made Ian re-assess what he thought he knew about Mickey. If it was Fiona or Debbie that were being held captive, he would do anything to protect them, and he wanted to do everything he could to save this girl Mandy—even though they’d never met.

“Read Gallagher. And make it convincing,” Amir commands, amusement dancing on his ugly face.

One of Amir’s men lifts a piece of cardboard and he begins, “I am first Lieutenant Ian Gallagher of the Rangers Regiment and the ‘Hiriya Almuquatlin’ militia have taken me hostage. The U.S. government has 13 days to withdraw from the As Suwayda Governorate, or I will be beheaded via live streaming. This is your first and final warning; no mercy will be spared. Praise be to Allah.” 

As soon as they stop recording Amir says, “Let’s see how much your precious government cares about you now.”

Ian doesn’t bother replying and keeps his eyes focussed on the wall in front of him as they remove the ropes from his ankles. As they drag him out of the room and back to the cell, he knows he got away with it. The wrist ropes had been loose enough to move his hands a little, and while he spoke, he shuffled his hands repeatedly—twice forming the sign for basement. He knows it’s not much, but it’s something. 

*****

Mickey spends his afternoon exercising—doing anything he can think of to keep his strength up without the use of weights. Ian had come back hours ago feeling positive about his secret message, then shortly after suffered a migraine, falling into a deep sleep. Mickey’s own concussion recovery is going well, but he knows from experience the continuing migraines can be hell. 

While he tries to keep his distance from Ian, he finds himself studying the man while he sleeps. The freckles are everywhere—on his eyelids, his throat, his hands—and Mickey is fascinated by the red eyelashes that flutter when he dreams. Ian’s beard is just starting to grow, the red hair already visible across his jaw and above his lip. Ian’s mouth is perfect, and Mickey wants to trace those lips with his thumb to feel how soft they are. If only Ian was gay, if only they met some other way. How stupid of him to think he could ever be that lucky. Would his omega scent come through tomorrow? The day after? He couldn’t hide it in this small space. While Ian no longer seems filled with hate and anger towards him, he has no idea how the soldier will react to the truth.

Four militia approach the cell, and Mickey is relieved to see they are only bringing food and water. It must be dinner time, although it’s hard to tell with no natural light to gauge the time. Once the men leave, Mickey gathers the two bowls—they have actual food this time—and the fresh water and brings them over to Ian’s sleeping space. 

“Gallagher,” he says, trying to rouse the soldier.

Squatting down, he shakes Ian’s shoulder, “Ian, wake up man. Foods here.”

Ian stirs, eyes squinting into the light until he focuses on Mickey. “Fuck, how long was I out?” Ian asks.

“Hard to say but fuckin’ hours, maybe three or four. The pain any better?”

Ian sits up, his ribs still causing him grief. At least his eye is improving. “Yeah, the migraine’s gone, thank fuck. This constant light is fucking torture.”

“We could smash it and sit in the dark,” Mickey says, smiling and hoping Ian does too.

Ian chuckles, “Save that for when we figure out how to escape.”

Mickey passes a bowl of rice and meat to Ian then picks up his own. “You got any ideas yet?”

“There’s nothing in here to use as a weapon—except for the glass from the light globe, and that glass is too thin to do shit. The door is fucking solid. We could smash someone’s head with the piss bucket.” Ian smiles – his first genuine one - and Mickey can’t help but smile back; it’s a beautiful fucking smile.

“We could just throw the piss over them. Make sure there’s some shit in there too.” They both laugh and it feels good; they need it. 

“I like the way you think, Milkovich. But seriously, we’ve got to provoke them so they take us out of this cell. We need to know how many men are in the building, where the exits are, if there is anything we can sneak back in here. Stuff like that.”

“Sounds like we’ll be getting the shit beaten out of us on the daily, Gallagher.”

“Considering your line of work Mick, I’m guessing you got some skills and know how to take a beating.”

Mickey huffs, thinking about all the beatings he’s taken. He hasn’t let himself think too much about Terry being dead, mainly because it makes him think about his brothers. But he knows he should acknowledge his Dad’s death and what that means. Looking up at Ian, he finds the soldier is studying his reaction. “I know everything about weapons and how to use them. Can hold myself in a fight, but not against an alpha—of course. I’m good with numbers and working out shit. And hell yeah, I know how to take a beating and get the fuck back up.”

“You want to talk about it? You implied your Dad broke your ribs. He the one handing out the beatings? Or someone else?”

Mickey shovels the last of his dinner in his mouth before answering. “Yeah, my Pops was a fucking asshole prick of a man. My brothers are, were, all alphas like him, and I was a fucking disappointment. He was the one who forced me to pretend to be an alpha and to be in the family business. Ian, I don’t expect forgiveness for all the shit I’ve done, but I never wanted any part of it. I should have stood up to that motherfucker a long time ago.”

Ian puts his bowl down and leans back against the wall. “Mickey, I’ve seen some shit in my life and it’s fucking hard to stand up against a parent, especially one that’s been beating on you since you were little, which I’m guessing is the case.”

The way Ian is looking at him—with compassion and concern—is too much. He gets up and walks the cell as he gathers his thoughts. Memories of childhood beatings fill his mind until they land on the day he watched Terry beat his Mom to death on the kitchen floor. Without looking at Gallagher, he replies, “Yeah, that was a daily occurrence in our house. As normal as watching cartoons or eating cereal for dinner. But none of that shit broke me. Watching him beat my Mom to death when I was eleven did it. I fucking stood there and did nothing. Said nothing.” Turning around to face Ian, he adds, “You’re the first person I ever told that to.”

“Fuck, Mickey. I’m sorry,” Ian says, getting up and inching closer.

Mickey wants nothing more than to let Ian touch him. But he knows that’s not a good idea, so he puts his hand up, so Ian knows not to get any closer. The soldier respects his wishes and moves away. Mickey’s body shakes and tears prick at his eyes. It’s the shame that does it—the guilt of not saving his Mom, who he loved so fucking much. 

Mickey sits down on his blanket and waits until he can speak again without his voice cracking. “I’m the one who should be sorry for getting your men killed. I know it’s just fuckin’ words but I am sorry, Ian. I am.”

“Mickey, I can see you mean it and I appreciate it. I’m sorry you lost your brothers.”

“Thanks man.”

*****

Ian watches Mickey settle down on the other side of the cell, the man’s pain both visible and raw. He almost feels guilty for being so harsh yesterday; he should know better. Closing his eyes, he tries to focus on how they can escape. It seems so fucking futile to even try. They have no weapon, and no means to execute an escape when four armed alphas turn up at their cell every time—even when only delivering food. Fear grips at Ian’s gut. He wants to see his family again. He wants to help Mickey’s sister Mandy. And strangely, he feels incredibly drawn to the man curling up under his blanket across the room. There is this want, this need, growing inside him. And quickly. It makes no sense and yet it is there—he wants to protect Mickey too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Things will start to get more complicated throughout the next two chapters as Mickey's scent and heat blockers start to wear off!   
> Please Kudos, subscribe and comment! Love to receive comments and hear your thoughts on the characters or the storyline.
> 
> If you are reading 'Meet me at the track" I am going to guess the next chapter will be between Thursday and Saturday. 
> 
> Stay positive, stay healthy and take care!  
> Rachael x


	4. Captivity, Day 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the chapter title suggests this is day 3 in captivity...

The first thing Mickey notices when he awakens the next day is his own scent. He slept cocooned inside his blanket, trying to shut out the constant light, but in doing so he’s captured his own scent—his omega scent. It’s almost unfamiliar to him, having been on blockers for so long, but it’s undeniably omega; sweet and sugary. He thought he’d get a day or two more before it became obvious, but it doesn’t seem so. 

The speed with which his scent blockers are wearing off indicates his heat may come on sooner than anticipated. And if his increased arousal is anything to go by, that clock is already ticking down. During the night, he’d woken from a sexual dream, his cock hard and his hole wet with slick, and the scent of Ian filling him with want. He’d been taught that being a male omega meant he was weak, a pussy, a bitch waiting to mate and have pups. Over the years, part of that had stuck and caused a conflict within him, shame filling him whenever he thought about wanting mate. 

Gaining the courage to pull the blanket back, he sits up, the musk of Ian’s alpha scent filling his lungs. Mickey recognises Ian is a powerful alpha who under normal circumstances would be feared by most others. But even a powerful alpha is no match for four semi-automatic firearms. Mickey can’t imagine the frustration Ian is dealing with, and the level of self-control he is exercising. And eventually Mickey is only going to add to that.

Getting up, he takes a piss; glad the guards replaced the bucket with a fresh one yesterday. Changing his mind, he thinks he should try to take the foulest smelling dumps to cover his scent. The sound wakes Gallagher, and he holds his breath, waiting to see if the alpha smells him. Tucking himself back in, he turns to see a sleepy redhead, breathing in deeply and running his hand through his hair. “You get any sleep, man? How’s your ribs and your head today? Your eye looks good.”

Ian stands and heads to the piss bucket. Mickey moves away, trying to keep his distance. “Slept better. Head doesn’t feel so fuzzy today and ribs on the mend. You sleep okay?”

“It’s hard to get back to sleep if you wake up cos of the fuckin’ light but yeah, slept okay.”

Ian finishes peeing and walks to the cell door, eyeing Mickey as he goes. He’s not sure if Ian is just deep in thought or picking up on his scent.

“What time do you think it is? Ian says, turning to look at him. “This is day 3, yeah? We need to record the days. The deadline is in 11 days.” 

“No fuckin’ idea what the time is I’m only able to keep track of the days because they bring us food on a schedule.” Mickey watches Ian’s nostrils flare and a small frown cross his face. Fucking hell, it’s not that obvious already, is it? If the guards arrive with the food and detect his scent, then he’s fucked.

The voices of the four guards approaching filters into the cell and they both move over to the far wall before they are ordered to—it makes the food drop quick and easy, with no confrontations. Even so, Ian always admits a low-level growl and remains tense and ready to attack.

After they leave, Ian divides the food into two equal portions and hands Mickey his share. The way Ian studies him makes his heart race, even though he can’t put his finger on what Ian is thinking. Mickey retreats to his side of the cell to eat, while Ian stands still for a few moments, then moves towards his. With time running out, he decides he has no choice but to show Ian the knife. The moment they finish their food he takes a deep breath and says, “Gallagher, don’t get shitty at me. You wanted to fuckin’ murder me two days ago, so that’s why I didn’t tell you bout this…”

“Tell me fucking what, Mickey?” Ian says, frowning at him.

“Jesus, calm the fuck down. It’s a good thing.” Pulling off his boot, he flips the insole to reveal the secret compartment in the heel. Ian is up on his feet and in front of him in three strides. Mickey pulls the pocketknife out and holds it up for Ian to see.

Ian snatches it out of his hand before he can even react. “What the fuck, Mickey?” Ian’s voice is low, so as not to attract any attention, but the way he spits out the words conveys his anger. Ian squats down and opens the knife right in front of Mickey’s face, “You had this the whole fucking time, and you didn’t tell me?”

“You wanted to murder me. I didn’t know if I could trust you.” Mickey watches Ian change; the soldier’s body relaxing, the rage in his eyes being exchanged for something softer, more understanding.

“Mickey, this changes everything,” Ian says, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

It makes Mickey feel good in a way he never has before. Pride fills his chest, knowing he’s made the alpha happy. His omega preens, and instead of shoving in down like he normally would, he lets himself bask in it, smiling back up at Ian.

*****

Since the moment Ian woke, the sweet, sugary scent he thought he could smell yesterday is filling his nose and putting him on edge. Is he imagining it? He knows being held captive is putting him under extreme stress, but surely he isn’t imagining a scent after only three days. It’s the most enticing scent he’s ever come across, and the only source can be Mickey. Has Mickey lied on top of a lie and he’s not only not an alpha, but not a beta either?

As he folds the pocketknife and places it back inside Mickey’s boot, he finds himself wanting to nuzzle over Mickey’s scent gland, the urge almost overpowering. If he could get closer, inhale at his neck, swipe his tongue over it, he would know if he was going crazy or not. He should be mad with Mickey for hiding the knife, but he can’t bring himself to be—the man’s blue eyes are sparkling back at him, the full lips stretched in a beautiful smile. Ian’s instinct is to praise him, so he does, “Mickey, you can trust me, and you’ve done great keeping this hidden from them.” Before he does something stupid, Ian stands up and takes a few steps back. 

“Should we discuss strategies, now we have a weapon?” Mickey asks.

“Yes, and I think I know what we’re going to do.” Ian sits back down in front of Mickey, but not too close, so he can think straight. Yesterday, he had searched every part of the cell for hidden cameras and microphones, finding none, but he keeps his voice low anyway. If there is a camera, the guards will be here in seconds. 

“I will set up over in that corner by the cell door, under the blanket with the knife. Mickey, you will be near the far wall pretending to vomit into the piss bucket and crying out in pain saying they’ve poisoned you and you’re going to die. They will ask you about me and you’ll say I’m dead and you covered me with the blanket. Reinforce to them they won’t get their money if you’re already dead at the exchange. They’ll have no choice but to enter the cell—to remove my body and attend to you. Once they enter, I will slit one of their throats. You use the bucket to knock one on his ass. That will give me time to get to the second one. You will need to disarm the one you knock out and kill the fourth guard. Do you think you can handle that?”

“Fuck yeah. But what happens then? We don’t know how many more men there are.”

“No, which is why we need to gather more intel. Tomorrow, I’ll demand to see Amir and attack a guard. They will take me out and rough me up, and I can see more of this facility. Then we can proceed with our plan in a few days.” Mickey has paled while Ian spoke, concern and fear written all over his face. “Mick, it’s a chance we gotta take. No good getting clear of this cell if we get recaptured down the hall. They’re excited about live streaming my beheading, so they won’t kill me without Amir’s order. Don’t stress, Mick. I’m trained for this.”

Ian reaches out and pats Mickey’s cheek to reassure him. Once he registers what he’s doing, he quickly pulls away. Mickey is silent as they stare into each other’s eyes for a beat too long. Ian is confused about how Mickey looks at him - it’s too affectionate, too soft. He wonders if he is projecting, wanting Mickey to be gay. Struggling with his desire to touch Mickey again, he moves away to get a drink, a new thirst growing.

*****

In the afternoon Mickey exercises, this time Ian is well enough to join in a little, although limited by the damage to his ribs. Within ten minutes, Mickey wishes Ian wasn’t flexing his muscles as he battles an erection. To distract himself, he attempts to strike up a conversation. “Hey Gallagher, what made you join the army?”

Ian stands up after a set of 20 push-ups and wipes the sweat off his forehead. “Always wanted to, ever since I was thirteen. Went through JROTC in high school and my brother Lip tutored me so I could get a good enough GPA to be considered for Westpoint. But I didn’t have the recommendation.” Ian starts on a round of lunges.

“You just join straight outta high school then?”

“Nope, I got into Westpoint. Frank, who’s my dad but really my uncle…” Ian shakes his head, “Story for another time. Well, Frank is a drunk and a scammer and 100% fucking evil. But the only good thing he ever did for me was get my recommendation. Blackmailed the dude. I still feel guilty as shit about it, but I wanted out of the neighbourhood, and I wanted to be an officer. I’ve tried to make sure I do some good in this job to make up for it.”

Mickey can relate to wanting out of a terrible childhood and he doesn’t hold it against Ian for a second. “So your Dad wasn’t a fuckin’ role model, but what about your Mom?”

Ian stops his lunges and leans back against the cell wall, looking defeated. “Mom wasn’t around much when I was growing up. Had bipolar and wouldn’t stay on her meds. Committed suicide when I was 17. She was the worst Mom, but I forgive her cos she was mentally ill. I fucking loved her so much. I still miss her. My sister Fiona raised me and my brothers and sisters.”

“I’m sorry, man,” he says, inching closer to Ian. “I know how that hurts, losing your Mom,”

Ian gives him a small smile, “I know you do. You carry it around with you every day, don’t you?”

“Yeah, looks like we got shit fathers and missing our dead Moms in common.”

“Mick, I try to look at it this way. If I’m lucky enough to find a mate and have a family of my own, I’m not gonna fuck it up.”

Mickey takes a mouthful of water from the jug, shocked that he hadn’t even thought to ask Ian if he was mated. He’s thinking all kinds of shit about Ian without knowing anything, let alone if he’s gay. And Mickey is sure he’s not gay. “You ever get close to taking a mate?” he asks.

Ian drops back to the floor to do another set of pushups. “There was one…person, omega, that I thought might have been the one, but it didn’t work out. What about you? You found the perfect woman yet?” 

The way Ian paused, then chose the word person, sets off alarm bells in his head. Who the fuck says person instead of he or she? Unless they were trans, he realises. Either way, it makes him think. On the spur of the moment, he tries the same thing out himself. “Nah, haven’t met the right person yet either.”

Ian gets to his feet and looks him up and down, without saying a word. Mickey is sure Ian’s eyes hover over his mouth. 

When their dinner arrives, Mickey is surprised to see they bring a larger bucket of water, a towel, a bar of soap and some clothes. One guard points at Mickey then speaks in poor English saying, “Amir want you get clean. Make video.” 

The two of them eat, hungry after exercising, then glance at the water and clothes. Mickey wants to get himself clean, he feels like shit, his body still covered in dust from the explosions. He knows he has his father’s dried blood splattered across his back so the new clothes are very appealing. “Ian, you want to clean up too?”

“Yeah, I must stink something bad. But you get cleaned up first, Mick. They must want you to do another video for your brother tomorrow and don’t want you to look like a hostage.”

“Okay. I’ll get to it.” As Mickey removes his boots, he observes Ian out of the corner of his eye. The soldier has turned away to give him privacy, but Mickey is still freaking out about getting naked. Deciding to do it quickly, he pulls off his shirt and strips his pants, then his socks, hesitating for a second before removing his boxers. He keeps his back to Ian as he lathers up the soap in the water, cleaning his face first then moving onto his junk. Being an omega, his dick is on the small side and would be a dead giveaway if Ian sees him from the front. He then moves to his underarms and ass before doing a quick once over of his torso, legs and feet. It’s difficult rinsing off the soap, but he smells clean. He’s about to dry off when he remembers his hair, kneeling down and dunking his head into the bucket. Taking the towel, he dries his hair then his body before trying on the new clothes. They fit okay, but he’s got to laugh—they are black Adidas trackies and a white T-shirt. He’s most grateful for the clean boxers and socks. The fuckers should have brought clothes for Ian too.

“It’s all yours, man. I think I’m gonna try to catch some z’s. I’m tired as fuck from the exercise,” he says as he walks over to his blanket and settles inside it.

“Thanks, Mick. I’m fucking tired, too.”

Mickey covers himself with the blanket, but he leaves a gap so he can watch. He knows he shouldn’t, it’s fucking wrong, but his attraction to the alpha is growing and hard to control. Ian strips, and Mickey’s heart thuds in his chest as he gets his first look at the man naked. His eyes are drawn to Ian’s long thick cock, but the pecs and washboard stomach leave him salivating. Ian has a strong ‘V’ which he wants to get his tongue on, long muscular legs, and a cute ass.

As he watches Ian dunk his hair in the bucket and the resulting drops of water cascading down his body, Mickey’s cock reaches full mast. By the time Ian lathers his dick, rolls his balls delicately, then strokes up and down his length, Mickey can feel slick leaking out of his ass. He panics for a minute, wondering if Ian will smell the slick, even with him encased in the blanket. 

But Ian continues, and Mickey watches the man’s face as he continues to stroke himself to hardness. Ian has his eyes closed and his mouth open—in his own little world, pleasure radiating off him. Mickey wonders who or what Ian is thinking about as he reaches into his own boxers and grasps his cock. With Ian’s eyes still closed, Mickey jerks himself too, setting the same pace as Ian but trying to stay still and not to jostle the blanket. Slick is now leaking out of his ass and he wants nothing more than to insert his fingers and rub at his sweet spot, but it will be too obvious. 

Ian is rubbing his thumb around the head of his cock and into his slit, and Mickey feels his balls tighten at the sight of the pre-cum. He’s so turned on he realises an orgasm is inevitable and getting clean was a fucking waste of time. Ian increases his speed, and thrusts into his own hand. Mickey reaches the point of no return, Ian’s muffled moans sending him over the edge. He bites down hard on his bottom lip as he shoots into his boxers, trying not to let his body jerk in response. On his third spurt, Ian cums too, and it’s the hottest fucking thing he’s ever seen. 

Mickey fantasises about that warm cum in his mouth, getting to taste it, being on his knees for Ian, being a good omega for Ian, being Ian’s omega. The thought snaps him back to reality, and he focusses on controlling his breathing as Ian cleans himself up and dries off. The cum and slick in Mickey’s boxers is uncomfortable but he’ll just have to let it dry. As he tries to settle down for sleep, thoughts of being mated to Ian have him shaking with both want and fear. 

*****

Ian climbs in under his blanket and tries to find a comfortable position. He cannot believe he stood naked, masturbating on one side of the room while Mickey slept on the other. The scent is doing something to him. All day it’s been getting stronger and there’s no fucking way Mickey is a beta. Mickey’s smell makes his skin tingle and his mind fuzzy. And now it’s all he can smell. 

Five minutes pass where he tosses and turns, and then he panics. Because if Mickey is an omega, then the guards are going to smell him really soon. Maybe the scent is stronger for him because they are together 24/7 in this tiny cell, or maybe because he’s gay, but whatever the reason, eventually the guards will smell him. And Mickey’s being taken to do another video tomorrow. A growl rumbles in his chest and he sits up, body tense.

Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s kneeling beside Mickey and pulling back the blanket. The smell of cum and slick hit him and blood rushes to his cock. His nose is at Mickey’s neck, hovering over the scent gland as he inhales deeply. Mickey jerks away, “The fuck, Gallagher.”

Ian ignores Mickey and leans back over him, caging him in with one hand on each side of his body and burying his nose back into Mickey’s neck. “Fucking hell,” he says and moans. Then swipes his tongue across the gland. Mickey tastes so sweet, so enticing and edible.

Mickey pushes his chest. “Ian, get the fuck off me.”

Ian sits back onto his knees and tries to control his panting. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his cock throbbing between his legs.

Mickey scrambles to sit up, “Tell you what?”

“Mickey, the game's up. Just fucking admit it.” Ian gets up and moves to the other side of the cell, he’s still so turned on and wants to do unspeakable things to Mickey.

“Okay, okay, I’m omega. But I thought my scent blockers would wear off slower. I thought maybe I’d be dead before anyone found out. But they’re wearing off faster than they should. Don’t know why. I’m sorry. Alpha, I’m sorry.”

Ian turns away and palms his cock, Mickey calling him alpha increasing his lust. “You should have told me, Mickey. You should have told me cos I’m…cos I’m fucking gay.” Ian hears Mickey’s breath catch. Leaning his hands against the wall, he waits for that to sink in before he adds, “And my rut suppressant injection is due in less than a week.” Ian turns around and Mickey is just staring at him, wide-eyed.

“You’re gay?” Mickey asks, as if it’s impossible.

“Fuck Mickey, what am I going to do? They’ll smell you. How the fuck can I protect you? What if we’re still here when I go into a rut and _I_ can’t keep my hands off you?”

Mickey stands up and takes a tentative step towards him. “You will be able to. Ian, I trust you.”

“Are you going to go into heat? Can you get pregnant?”

Mickey looks down at his feet, “Yeah, I think I will go into a heat soon, maybe a week. They say it comes on fast if you’ve been on heat suppressants a long time. I have a contraceptive implant so I can’t get pregnant.”

Ian walks forward and grabs Mickey by the shoulders, feeling angry and stressed. “Jesus fucking Christ Mickey, I gotta figure out how to protect you. They’ll fucking gang rape you and I can’t let them do that. Fuck!” Ian growls, louder than he should. “You can’t get taken for that video tomorrow.” Closing his eyes, he tries to calm himself.

“Ian, it’s okay. Don’t worry about me. I got myself into this shit. Try to get some sleep okay. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Opening his eyes, he feels overwhelmed. “Okay,” he says as Mickey moves back over to his blanket. He does the same and settles back down; breathing deeply in and out to calm himself. He won’t sleep until he has a plan. They can’t take Mickey tomorrow, they just can’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get serious! I'm really looking forward to writing the next few chapters!!   
> I hope you enjoyed this one! Thanks for reading.  
> Please kudos, comment and subscribe.
> 
> If you are reading "Meet me at the Track" I am AIMING for Thursday for the next chapter.
> 
> Take care everyone!!  
> Rachael x


	5. Captivity, Day 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 in captivity...Ian and Mickey are more honest about their feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this chapter - as many of you know the past week has been difficult for me. I also have a lot of work on at the moment but that will ease up from the 14th onwards. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

Mickey lurches up to a sitting position, gasping for air, fear gripping at his stomach as the remnants of the nightmare scatter from his mind.

“Shhhh.” A warm hand squeezes his forearm.

Turning toward Ian’s voice, he finds the soldier sitting next to his bedding. As his breathing returns to normal he says, “What the fuck you doing, Gallagher? You watching me sleep?” Ian blushes and Mickey’s heart skips a beat when understanding rolls over him. The desire and affection in Ian’s eyes are clear, but Mickey doesn’t know what to do with it. He’s never been allowed to live as an omega, to experience what it feels like to be wanted by an alpha. It means surrendering to his softer side, to his most primal needs.

“We need to be ready when they come with the food. I was just about to wake you. Get up and take a piss, then I’ll tell you the plan.”

Mickey does as he’s told, glancing over his shoulder as he pees, watching Ian gather both their blankets and place them far away from the cell door. Tucking his dick back in, he takes the few steps over to Ian. He wants to stand close, wants to tilt his head and expose his scent gland so Ian knows what his body wants, but he doesn’t because he’s scared. Scared to let himself go and have something that he is only going to lose. There’s simply no point, so he just breathes in that intoxicating scent and watches Ian finish laying the blankets one on top of the other. “Ian, you don’t gotta come up with some dangerous fuckin’ plan to protect me. If they don’t find out today, it will be tomorrow or the next.”

“Mickey, I’m going to get myself out of this cell today and do some intel, and then tomorrow we proceed with our original plan, maybe slightly modified. I just have to keep you safe today, okay?” Ian grabs his wrist and rubs his thumb across his scent gland. Mickey’s eyes close with pleasure. He can see Ian is also caught up in the brazenness of his action, his breathing heavy. 

Mickey’s body is more than ready to respond so instead he asks, “What’s this plan then?” taking a few steps back, but never dropping eye contact.

“You’re going to wrap yourself in both blankets—so mine is on the outside. Hopefully it will block your omega scent. We’ll place the bucket next to you. I’ll tell them you’re sick and vomiting, this will help make our escape plan more believable tomorrow. I’ll get angry, scare them into thinking it’s contagious, and attack one of them. They’ll most likely take me to Amir and focus on me instead of you. It they come for you, then slit their fucking throats, Mick. Go out fighting. They won’t be expecting it.”

Ian’s face is full of worry, and Mickey can see the alpha is feeling despondent. “Ian, why don’t we just try the escape plan today? The chances of getting out are slim to none, anyway. If you attack one of them today, they might beat the shit out of you or kill you before you can get any intel.”

“Mickey, I’ve spent half the night thinking this through. I need to at least fucking try to get us out of here, and this is our best chance.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want you to get yourself fuckin’ killed for me. You ever think about that?” He’s angry and making sure Ian knows it. “You can’t make me follow your fuckin’ orders.”

Ian’s eyes turn cold and for a split-second Mickey’s frightened. Ian growls, grabbing Mickey by the shirt and getting up in his face. “You _will_ fucking follow my orders. Now get under those blankets. NOW.” Mickey cowers, feeling disappointed that he’s upset Ian. Why doesn’t Ian understand that he doesn’t want him to get hurt? Lying down on the ground, he pulls the blankets over him, instantly calmed by the alpha's scent all around him. Ian places the bucket close by, then moves to the cell door to wait.

After ten minutes of silence, they hear the guard’s approach. “Mickey, pretend you’re throwing up in the bucket and then close the blanket over your head.” Mickey sits up on one elbow and as soon as the guards appear in the corridor puts his head over the bucket, ready to pretend. The smell is so bad he starts dry heaving for real.

Ian yells as they arrive at the cell door, “He’s fucking sick - been heaving for hours. Better get me the fuck out of here before I catch that shit.”

“Move away, wall!” orders the guard who speaks in broken English. 

Mickey spits into the bucket and moans as if he is in pain, then curls back down under the blankets. “Don’t come fuckin’ near me. You don’t wanna catch this shit,” he groans loudly.

“You hear that? He’s fucking contagious. I want to speak to Amir.”

Ian has backed away from the cell door and is standing in the middle of the room with his arms raised in surrender. The guards enter, one placing the food and water down as another holds a gun on Ian. The other two remain outside, guns at their sides. Mickey’s heart is pounding so hard in his chest he doesn’t think he could stand if he had to. The chance of Ian being shot dead is so high. 

“I demand to see Amir,” Ian growls, teeth bared as his scent floods the room. The two guards in the room growl back, but Mickey can see they are shocked by the show of strength Ian is projecting. Ian is fierce and Mickey feels a strange mix of fear, arousal, and pride.

It happens almost in slow motion; Ian lunges forward and connects his fist with the guard who set down the food. Mickey can hear the bone of the man’s cheek shatter under the force. The other guard moves quickly and smashes the butt of his rifle into Ian’s head just as Ian gets a second punch into the man’s gut. Then it’s chaos as three guards wrestle Ian down to the ground, words flying in Arabic that Mickey cannot understand. Ian lashes out, kicking at them as they pummel into him with feet and rifles. Mickey’s thankful they haven’t just shot him; Ian was right - they won’t kill without Amir’s order. 

A few minutes later, they haul Ian out of the cell and drag him down the corridor, turning to the right.

*****

Ian blinks once, twice, then shakes his head. He’s got to stay conscious. Alert. They turn right at the end of the corridor and drag him up _those_ stairs. The next level opens out into a large room, like a living area with sofa’s, a coffee table, and a pool table to one side. There are two, no three men in the room, none of which he has ever seen before. They converse in Arabic with the guards, but his head hurts too much to translate any words.

They pass through a kitchen and then he’s being taken down another hall, passing one door before they stop in front of a second. A guard knocks. Someone answers in Arabic, and Ian thinks it sounds like Amir. A guard opens the door and they drag him inside, forcing him to his knees, a rifle held to the back of his head. 

Amir is sitting behind a large desk. An angry exchange occurs between Amir and one of the guards, so Ian uses the time to scan the room. There is a pistol on the desk along with a cell phone. No landline in sight and no other weapons. 

Amir stands, grabs his pistol and walks leisurely around the desk. “Lieutenant Gallagher, do you care to explain why one of my men has a broken cheekbone?”

“Because he’s a slow motherfucking piss poor alpha.”

Amir backhands him across the face, and Ian laughs at the absurdity of it. “If you touch one of my men again, I will put a bullet through your fucking brain.”

“Let’s hope you move faster than your guard or I’ll put my fist through _your_ fucking brain.”

The comment earns him a pistol whipping, his vision fading in and out as he tries to remain upright. Amir grabs his jaw and then all he can see is his ugly face and smell the stench of his breath. Ian wants to vomit, the room tilting at an obscure angle.

“Look at me, Lieutenant.”

Ian focusses his eyes on Amir’s almost black irises and growls low and deep.

“What is wrong with Milkovich?”

Instantly alert, Ian knows he has to get this right. “He’s got some stomach flu. Shitting himself and vomiting his guts up. Wouldn’t want to catch that shit. Wouldn’t put him on camera either, or his brother will think you’re killing him.”

Amir walks back around his desk and sits down. Ian watches him weigh up what he’s said. A full minute goes by and then Amir is barking orders at his men in Arabic. Ian gets hauled back out, down the corridor and through the living room area. There are still only three men there but this time he gets a look out of a window, barren land as far as he can see. And there’s a door. 

They take him back downstairs, pass the corridor leading to their cell and end up in one of the other basement rooms—not the one they filmed in. He wants to fight, but he knows it will most likely end with Amir shooting him, so he lets his wrists be secured to a chain that hangs from the ceiling. His toes barely touch the floor. A growl rips deep from inside his chest; it’s loud and full of hate. And full of a promise to rip these motherfuckers apart the moment he gets the chance.

As they leave the room, he swears he hears an anguished Mickey yell, ‘Gallagher.’

*

An hour or so later, two guards re-enter the room. His arms are numb, and he has been slipping in and out of consciousness with the new concussion. One man holds him while the other punches—they get him in the kidneys and then punch him in the gut over and over until he vomits. They release him from the chain, and he falls to the floor hard, unable to support his weight, and his arms incapable of breaking his fall. He uses the last of his strength to prevent his head from smashing on the concrete floor. They tie his hands and feet and leave him again.

For a while he just lies there, only rolling to move away from his own vomit. Slowly his arms gain feeling and it fucking hurts as the blood circulates. His mind wanders to Mickey. Have they taken him out of the cell? Have they discovered he’s an omega? Ian has heard nothing, and that gives him hope that the plan is working, that they’ve left Mickey alone. As fatigue overwhelms him, he thinks of Mickey’s blue eyes and those beautiful lips he wants to taste. There’s a part of him that believes Mickey might be gay, that he might feel something for Ian too. He doesn’t know if it’s just his brain’s way of coping or if he could be lucky enough for it to be true. There is no logic to his feelings or the speed with which they have grown. His eyes flutter closed as he imagines taking Mickey in his arms, keeping him safe, making him his omega.

*

When Ian comes to, he has no sense of time. It could be minutes, hours, days? His body aches all over and he is so thirsty it feels like he’s swallowing razor blades. The door unlocks, and he prays they are going to return him to the cell. To Mickey. Instead, his heart sinks when he sees them carry in a large bucket, water spilling over the sides as they shuffle in with it. 

A new man has replaced the guard whose face he smashed in. Two men hold guns on him while the other two set down the bucket. Ian trained hard to hold his breath underwater—up to three minutes—but he doesn’t want them to know that.

His training has taught him to stay calm, to separate the mind from the body, so when they lift him up onto his knees and push his head into the water, he is ready. He waits calmly for 20 seconds then thrashes against them. There is no need for him to do it, and he doesn’t put much effort into it, but they must think he is struggling to breathe, or they won’t pull him out. Another 20 seconds go by and they lift him up. He pretends to gasp for air and then yells obscenities for added effect.

The motherfuckers do it again and again and again, leaving him under longer each time. By around the sixth time, he’s tired and struggles to stay calm. He’s been under for over two minutes and thrashing for a minute and a half. Panic grips his stomach. Maybe they will keep going until he drowns. He stops moving. Stops fighting. _Mickey_ , he says in his mind. _Mickey, if I don’t make it, I’m sorry. I tried._ They still have his head held under. It must be nearly three minutes; his lungs burn and the urge to open his mouth and gasp for air is overwhelming.

**_Don’t fuckin’ give up on me, Gallagher._ **

Ian hears Mickey loud and clear. Is he dying? Is he already dead? Because it sounds like Mickey is answering him. Almost as if Mickey can hear him. He has to try—for Mickey. Reaching deep inside, he unleashes his anger and explodes up against the two men holding him down. He knows he’s broken his restraints as he growls and bares his teeth, knocking the two guards to the side. Then it goes black.

*****

Mickey paces the cell for hours at a time. He’s never felt so helpless in all his life. It’s only when his stomach rumbles with hunger that he realises it must be late; later than they normally bring him dinner. Have they killed Ian? Are they torturing him? Maybe Ian has got away. The thought brings both happiness and sadness. But not anger. He wouldn’t be angry at Ian if he escaped without him because none of this is Ian’s fault. Yet a part of him aches at the thought of never telling Ian he’s gay, of never getting the chance to find out if that look in Ian’s eyes is what he thinks it is.

He returns to the blankets and wraps himself up in them, Ian’s scent calming him. Mickey decides if he gets one more chance, then he’s going to stop hiding, stop being a coward, and he’s going to tell Ian. Not only that he’s gay, but that he has feelings for the Alpha. He’s never felt this drawn to anyone, this desire to become one, to belong, to mate and be bonded. If only he had have known his life would be so short, he would have stood up to Terry sooner, lived his life on his own terms.

Closing his eyes, he imagines kissing all of Ian’s freckles one by one. Lavishing love on the man who is risking everything to keep him from being raped, being killed. The sound of water suddenly fills his ears and fear grips at his insides. Ian’s voice comes to him; _Mickey, if I don’t make it, I’m sorry. I tried._ It must be a hallucination, but it sounds like Ian is in the room. Mickey feels like he’s suffocating—no drowning—and Ian sounds like he’s given up. Ian cannot give up. He can’t! _Don’t fuckin’ give up on me, Gallagher,_ he thinks. Anger surges inside him, and when his eyes spring open the room is still empty and deathly quiet.

*

About fifteen minutes tick by and Mickey assumes he is not getting fed, so he settles into a sleeping position. There’s nothing he can do but wait.

When the familiar voices of the guard’s wafts down the corridor, he pulls the blankets tight around him and freezes. Looking through a tiny gap in the blanket, he watches the door get unlocked and a guard lay out food and water. 

“You sick?” the man asks.

“Yes, leave me alone,” he replies, trying to sound like he is ill.

“We come for you tomorrow night. Eat. Drink.”

“Okay.”

Two other guards drag an unconscious Ian just inside the cell and dump him on the floor. His head is bleeding, and he looks wet. Mickey’s heart breaks. Breathing heavily, he wills the guards to get the fuck out, so he can do something, anything, to help Ian.

Finally, when the guards turn the corner, Mickey throws the blankets back and rushes to Ian’s side. “Ian, Ian,” he says, stroking the alpha’s face. He checks Ian’s pulse, making sure it is strong—which it is—then looks at the gash over his eyebrow. He needs stitches and from the way it’s bruising it could be fractured too.

Mickey locates his old clothes and rips apart his shirt, then takes the cleanest part over to the water jug and dips the fabric in. Once he’s cleaned the blood away, he applies pressure and waits. When he removes the fabric ten minutes later, the bleeding has stopped. 

Sitting back against the wall, he uses every ounce of energy to pull Ian up between his legs, so Ian’s head and back are resting against his chest. Wrapping one hand around Ian’s middle, he uses his other hand to stroke from Ian’s forehead up into his wet hair—over and over again. His Mom used to do that to him when he was little. It made him feel loved and safe—what he wants Ian to feel that too.

Mickey is almost asleep, his head lulling to the side and then jerking awake when Ian finally stirs in his arms.

“M-ick?” Ian’s voice is croaky and broken.

“I’m here, Ian. You’re okay. I got you.”

“So, th..thirs..ty.” Ian’s hand slips over his and his breath shudders in response.

“Can you sit up? And then I can get you some water.”

Ian moans in pain as he sits up. Mickey supports his shoulders until he’s stable and then scoots out from behind him to retrieve the water and food. Ian manages to slide back so he can lean against the wall. “Here,” he says, holding the jug up to Ian’s mouth. Mickey tips it slowly and Ian takes a few sips before he lowers it.

“More.” Mickey tilts the jug again and Ian takes a few bigger mouthfuls, finally lifting his hand to support the jug himself. After that, he breaks off pieces of bread and hands them to Ian, both of them watching each other intently. He sees the effects of the food and water as colour returns to Ian’s face and his eyes brighten a little. 

“Mickey, don’t forget to eat too. I’m feeling better now.” Ian reaches out to him, hand touching his cheek. “Thank you.”

Feeling brave, Mickey takes Ian’s hand in his own. “I should be the one thanking you. Looks like they fucked you up real bad.”

Ian smiles, “Was worth it. You’re worth it. Mickey, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Mickey doesn’t know what Ian needs to tell him, but he needs to go first—it’s now or never. “Ian, I have something to tell you too. And I gotta go fucking first before I lose my nerve.” Mickey breathes in and out, tears pooling in his eyes with the fear of what he’s about to say. “Ian…I should have told you this yesterday, but I was scared. Not scared of you, but scared of me, of who I am and how I feel. I’m…I’m gay.”

Ian’s eyes widen and then he looks down at their hands—still joined—then back up at Mickey.

“Ian, say something.”

“But Mick, what are _you saying_? Are you just gay or are you gay and you have…?” Ian stops and stares as Mickey does the only thing he can think of to help Ian understand. Pulling the collar of his t-shirt away, exposing his scent gland, he tilts his head down and to the side. “Want you, alpha,” he whispers, his heart beating out of his chest.

“Oh, Mickeeey, I want you too baby. So fucking much.” Ian pulls him by the hand and coaxes him into his lap. Mickey has never straddled a man before and his cock hardens in seconds as Ian nuzzles into his neck, breathing in his scent. When Ian licks over the gland, he gasps and grinds down over the mammoth alpha cock that is swelling beneath his butt cheeks.

“Mickey, give me your lips.” Ian cups his jaw and crashes their lips together. His head spins with the sensations; Ian’s scent on his skin is setting him on fire, and warm lips press urgently against his. Their mouths move together as if they were born for each other. Mickey parts his lips and welcomes Ian’s tongue into his mouth, moaning with pleasure as their tongues swirl together. His hole is getting wet and needy, and he wants nothing more than for Ian to possess him, to claim him as his own.

When Ian pulls away, they both rub their faces on each other’s scent glands, and hold each other close. “Mickey, I want you, but I can’t just yet. I’m in too much pain. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Want you to get better. I- I’ve never been fucked before. I’m nervous. Want to be good for you, Alpha.”

“Oh baby, you will be good for me, I know it. When you’re ready we can take it slow. We need to focus on getting out of here, anyway.”

Ian pulls him for another kiss - it’s slower and softer this time and Mickey feels like he’s melting in Ian’s arms. No one has ever held him like this. No one has ever made him feel special, or loved, or protected. “Ian,” he says, reluctantly pulling his lips away, “what happened. What did the fuckers do to you?”

“Go get us the blankets and I’ll tell you.”

Mickey climbs off Ian’s lap and fetches the two blankets. He lays one down for them to sleep on and saves the other to go over them. Then he grabs his old clothes to use as a pillow for Ian’s head. Perhaps he’s jumping the gun, assuming Ian wants to sleep next to him, but Ian doesn’t say anything if he objects. 

*****

Ian watches Mickey arrange the blankets like a bed as he contemplates the situation they find themselves in. He wants Mickey, no question about it, and now he knows Mickey wants him too. It fills him with joy to know he’s met the man that he is destined to mate with, to bond with, but it is laced with the sadness of knowing they may not live long enough for it to happen. Ian will fight with everything he has to protect Mickey, but the odds are stacked against them. 

“Can you move to the blanket? Do you need help?” Mickey asks.

“I think so. Can you help me take my shirt off it’s still wet?”

Mickey unbuttons his shirt while Ian stares at the man’s face. It’s beautiful in every way, and Ian loves the way Mickey bites down on his bottom lip. Once his shirt is off, Mickey pulls his wife beater over his head. He can tell Mickey is both nervous and excited, so he rubs his thumb across Mickey’s cheek. “Thank you. Can you help me with my boots and pants too? Will you take your clothes off and lie next to me? Sleep in my arms?”

Mickey blushes and instead of speaking, kisses the palm of his hand and then the scent gland on his wrist. It’s intimate and caring, and it makes Ian’s stomach flutter with butterflies. Once Mickey has him down to his boxers, he drags himself onto the blanket as Mickey strips off his clothes too. Mickey’s body is hard and soft in all the right places and if Ian had enough strength, he would already be inside him, claiming him. 

The moment Mickey lies down and covers them with the blanket, Ian pulls Mickey in close, encouraging the omega to rest his head on his chest. Slowly an arm wraps around his torso and Ian smiles despite the hopelessness of their situation. It’s the first time since before the bombing that he has felt some happiness, felt his body relax, and it’s all because of Mickey.

“So what did they do? Did you see anything, find out anything?” Mickey asks.

“They took me up those stairs. It’s a house, and this is some sort of converted basement. I saw a living room with a window and a door. The area looks isolated. We may be a long way from a town or city. They took me to Amir and then back down here to another room. I’ll be fine Mickey, I’m just fucking sore. They punched the living shit out of me—I’m sure the bruises are already bad—and then they tried to wear me down by dunking me in water over and over again. 

“Water? They put you in water?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Before when I was waiting for you, I could hear water and I thought you told me you were sorry and you were tired. But you weren’t here. Felt fuckin’ weird.”

Ian doesn’t know what to make of what Mickey is saying. “I thought I heard you too when they were dunking me the last time. Did you yell out at me?”

“No, but I was telling you not to give up. Did you see any other men or is it just Amir and the four guards here?”

“I saw three others. We just need to get upstairs and out that front door. I need to rest if we are going to proceed with the plan tomorrow morning.”

“We may have more time. That guard told me the are coming for me tomorrow night.”

“Fuck, that would be good. More time to recover and go over our plan. You can still be sick, and I can die from my injuries. Turn onto your side, Mick. Let’s try to sleep.”

Mickey turns onto his side and Ian spoons him; nuzzling into his neck as he strokes up the omega’s chest. The skin on skin contact is everything, and he peppers kisses to Mickey’s neck and shoulder as their scents mix, creating the perfect fragrance. Mickey’s heart is beating fast under Ian’s hand and he presses his pelvis forward, nestling his half-hard cock against Mickey’s ass.

“Ian,” Mickey says, then swallows loudly, “Do you think we are meant for each other? To mate, to bond?”

The uncertainty in Mickey’s voice melts Ian’s heart. “Yes. I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. You will be my Omega, Mickey. Whenever you’re ready, I will take you, and you will be mine.”

“And you will be my Alpha.”

“I'll be forever yours, Mickey. Now sleep, baby.”

Ian holds Mickey until he hears the omega’s breaths slow into the rhythm of sleep, then he too, finally lets sleep take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please kudos, subscribe and comment - very much appreciated!!
> 
> Next chapter of MEET ME AT THE TRACK should be Monday 14th (I hope). But once I get past the 13th I should be able to get two chapters a week done (one for Captive and one for Meet me at the track) for the following four - six week period. So both fics should be complete by the end of January. 
> 
> Take care!  
> Rachael x


	6. Captivity, Day 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Mickey's scent growing stronger, the boys have their escape scheduled for today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up! I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> If you haven't had a chance to read my xmas fic it's called, "MICKEY, YOU'VE BEEN A VERY NAUGHTY BOY" and it's filled with laughs and lust!

Ian sleeps lightly, his brain remaining on alert, knowing he has to be ready at a moment’s notice to protect Mickey. During the night, Mickey has turned around; his face now snuggled into Ian’s neck. Ian holds him tight and places a kiss to the top of his head. How he feels about Mickey is different to how he’s felt about every other omega he’s been with. And he’s been with a lot. With the others it was about sex; an instinctive desire to dominate, to control, to meet his own sexual needs. But with Mickey there is a yearning to protect, to love him, and keep him safe. Yes, he wants to do all those dirty things like lick at Mickey’s rim and taste his slick, and cum deep inside his ass and claim him. He wants to feel his knot swell, locking them together as they orgasm over and over again. But mostly he wants to bond with Mickey, be mated for life, maybe have a family. He’s always wanted a kid or two. 

Mickey stirs in his arms and he wonders if Mickey can feel his hardening cock pressing between them. Just thinking about fucking Mickey has him throbbing with desire. 

“Ian?” Mickey says, whispering into his neck.

“We need to get up soon and get ready for the food drop.”

Mickey lifts his face and Ian brings their lips together, catching Mickey’s bottom lip between his own. He slides a hand down to squeeze Mickey’s ass, his fingers wanting nothing more than to dip into the crack and seek out the hot, wet warmth. Mickey kisses him back, greedily pushing his tongue into his mouth and Ian moans, his lust gaining momentum. If they were anywhere else, he would continue, but they can’t because their lives are in the balance. Pulling his lips away, he says, “Mickey, we need to stop before I can’t control myself. If we can get out of here today, we can fuck day and night if you want.”

Mickey runs a hand through his chest hair before stroking over a nipple. “If we get out of here, I’m keeping you to that. What do you want me to do this morning?”

“Hopefully, my scent is all over you, but you will need to stay under the blankets again. I will say you are still sick but feeling better. Plus, I’ll tell them they fucked up my ribs and something feels wrong, so when I play dead it won’t seem like it came out of nowhere.”

“How _are_ you feeling?” Mickey sits up and looks at the deep bruising all over his torso, then examines the cut over his eyebrow. 

“I’m sore. I need to rest today as much as I can so I can fight tonight. It’s better to escape in the evening—we’ll have the cover of darkness once we’re out of this house.” Ian tries to stand, Mickey coming to his aid and helping him to his feet. “Mickey, can you get me your knife? If something goes wrong this morning, I want to be ready.”

“Okay, take a piss and drink some water,” Mickey says, picking up his shoe to retrieve the knife.

Fifteen minutes later they are dressed and in position—Mickey under the blankets and Ian sitting slumped against the far wall with the knife tucked into his boot.

About an hour later, they are still waiting.

Maybe two hours later they get up and stretch their bodies. Still, no one comes.

Ian holds Mickey in his arms when he can’t stand it anymore, then peppers little kisses to his lips.

“Ian, what do you think is happening?”

“No fucking cl-”

The outburst of yelling has them rushing back into their positions. The voices continue, maybe three or four men involved, but no one comes down the corridor. After ten minutes, the argument ceases and is replaced with silence once again. Ian has no fucking idea what is going on, but if the militia’s agenda is not going to plan it could either help or hinder their escape. Feeling uncertain and out of control with this new development he reaches out to grabs Mickey’s hand.

*

In the afternoon, Ian decides they should exercise. It’s a risk—if the guards appear before they can get back into position, they will take Mickey to record the video and detect he is an omega. But they cannot sit still all day as their bodies won’t be ready to fight. Ian tells Mickey to exercise lightly while he walks the cell, keeping his ears tuned and eyes focussed down the corridor. Mickey knows if Ian says ‘halt’ then he must resume his position quickly and quietly.

After about thirty minutes, Ian holds Mickey in a tight hug, breathes him in, then kisses him once before they return to their escape plan positions. He knows they should remain quiet, but Mickey is on edge and needs to be distracted. “Mickey,” he whispers. “When did you first know you were gay?”

Mickey chuckles, “You mean other than when I started getting hard and wet when I looked at the jocks in high school?”

Ian can’t stop himself from laughing. “I used to perv on the other boys in the showers after gym class. Found gay porn when I was twelve. Was fucking my thirty-year-old boss when I was fourteen.”

“The fuck, Gallagher? You were fucking an adult ass man—a fucking paedophile no less—when you were fourteen?”

“He was an omega, Mickey. I had already presented as alpha. I wasn’t in any danger. I was immature and horny and took what I wanted.”

“You can tell yourself that, but that’s fucking sick.”

“Mickey, I don’t want to talk about me. Tell me how old you were and…well…you said you’ve never been fucked, but has there been anyone else? Like, how did you know for sure you were gay?” 

I was fourteen when I presented as omega, but I suspected I was gay by thirteen. At the time I thought I just admired men—like actors or singers or whatever. You know, wanted to be like them. But looking back on it, I realise they were crushes. In my head I would say, I want to look like and be like that guy, but I really just thought they were hot.” Mickey is smiling at him, eyes twinkling. 

“So…did you act on any of your feelings?” he coaxes.

“Gallagher, are you jealous or some shit?”

“Maybe. I’m like every other alpha—what’s mine is mine and I don’t want anyone touching you other than me.”

They look at each other, heat growing between them.

“Then you sure you want to hear this story?” Mickey asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Yep, as long as you ain’t still carrying a torch for this other motherfucking alpha.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “It was twelve years ago. Don’t even know what fuckin’ happened to him after…” Mickey looks away for a moment, then slowly turns back. “I was sixteen and he was fifteen. He was a friend from school. I trusted him, and he knew I was really an omega. We’d kissed a few times and even though I knew my Pops would kill me if he found out I was a fag, I couldn’t stop myself. One weekend the house was empty and Anthony—that was his name—was over and we were watching a movie. We started making out and then I wanted more. So I got on my knees and started blowing him.”

Mickey pauses and changes position on the floor. Ian is stopping himself from growling, his jealousy getting away from him as he thinks about Mickey sucking someone else off.

“We were in my bedroom and had the movie turned up loud. Didn’t hear my Pops come home. He opened the door and caught me with an alpha dick down my throat. Went fucking psychotic. Beat the living shit out of Anthony, then did the same to me. Told me no son of his would ever be a faggot and that if he ever caught me again, he’d kill me and whoever I was with. It wasn’t empty threats; I’d seen my Pops kill people.”

Ian stands up and paces the cell, the rumble in his chest not coming close to expressing the anger stewing in his gut. He wants to kill Mickey’s father and he’s pissed he can’t. The man got off easy with a bullet through the brain. Ian would have torn his fucking limbs off and stomped on his skull until it shattered.

“Ian, it’s ok,” Mickey says, now behind him and reaching out to touch his arm. “It was a long time ago and he’s dead now. I’m free of that motherfuckin’ asshole. And I didn’t love Anthony. He was a friend and I liked him, but it wasn’t like this. Nothing like what is happening between us.”

Ian pulls Mickey into his arms, knowing he’s holding him too tightly. “Mickey, you never have to be afraid again. I will always protect you. Be here for you. If I could go back in time and kill your father for you, I would. I’m so sorry for all he’s put you through.”

“I know you’ll protect me, Ian. I know.” Mickey reaches up and threads a hand around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. 

*****

It’s most likely evening now, even though it’s hard to gauge. Mickey is hungry, but he is more concerned about Ian because he needed a good feed and to hydrate to help his recovery. They had been ready to go for hours, the plan in place, but no one came. No one has checked on them since last night. Mickey feels like something is going on, something that isn’t according to plan, and it makes him uneasy. “They’re not coming down tonight,” he says to Ian, who is hovering at the cell door.

“No, it doesn’t seem like it. We need to be ready to go in the morning now. Your scent is so strong. I don’t see how they could miss it.”

Mickey walks over to Ian, “It might just be stronger to you. You could smell me after only two days off my blockers, which isn’t normal. Think it’s just because, you know…”

Ian smiles at him and cocks one eyebrow, teasing him. “No, I don’t know, tell me Mickey, why could I smell you before everyone else?” 

The alpha snakes his muscular arms around his waist and pulls him in close. Mickey’s heart speeds up and his body temperature flares. “You know why.”

“But I want,” Ian kisses his neck, “you to,” then more kisses down to his scent gland, “tell me.” Ian licks over his gland and his skin tingles and his legs go weak.

He reaches up and cups Ian’s face in his hands, “Because we’re fated, aren’t we?”

Ian nods, then closes the distance until their lips find each other, slotting together perfectly. The world fades away—no militia, no cell, no fear—just Ian holding him firmly and kissing him like nothing else on earth matters. Mickey feels Ian’s growing erection against his stomach and thinks about what it will be like to take Ian’s cock into his mouth, to taste him and pleasure him. He can feel himself getting wet and blood rushes to his own cock. The thought of Ian inside him causes him to moan into Ian’s mouth. His instincts are kicking in as he fights his desire to present himself to Ian. “Fuck,” he says, pulling away from the alpha and panting. Ian seems shocked at Mickey stopping them abruptly and then his expression changes to one of concern. “Mickey, what is it? Talk to me.”

“Just…you know, I’ve never done this before. Feel fuckin’ stupid being my age and never been fucked. And you’ve been with so many other omegas before.”

Ian takes his hand and presses a kiss to his palm. “Mickey, I love that you’ve never been fucked before. I want to be your first and your only. It makes you, us, even more special. Baby, no one will ever compare to you.”

Mickey swallows hard, Ian’s scent driving him crazy. “I want you. I can feel my hole getting wet. But I’m still scared shitless.”

“We can wait,” Ian says. But Mickey can see the alpha is struggling, eyes black with lust. Knowing they may not even be alive tomorrow, he musters up some courage, “Take your clothes off.”

Ian smirks at him, “Bossy little omega. I like it.” The alpha starts stripping his clothes off—boots first, then shirt and wife beater, then pants and socks. Ian pulls his dog tags off from around his neck and throws them on top of the pile of clothes. Mickey can feel slick leaking out of his ass as his body pulses with anticipation. Ian’s cock is straining in his boxers, a patch of wetness visible. “Omega, show me your beautiful body, want to worship it.”

Mickey does as the alpha asks, he doesn’t want to deny Ian, only wants to please him. He undresses down to his boxers, then realises he wants to show Ian everything and removes them too. He’s completely naked in front of his alpha for the first time, and the way Ian looks at him makes him feel good.

“Mickey, baby, you are perfect.”

“Let me see your big alpha cock,” he says, shocked at his own boldness. Ian slides the boxers down and steps out of them, then strokes himself slowly. “Holy fuck,” are the only words Mickey can get out. He palms his own cock, desperate for relief. 

Ian steps forward, swipes a thumb through his own pre-cum and then lifts his hand towards Mickey’s mouth. “Mickey, taste me, baby.” Mickey parts his lips and licks the pre-cum off Ian’s thumb, groaning loudly with the pleasure of it. “My perfect omega,” Ian whispers, before greedily licking into his mouth and pulling their bodies flush together.

All rational thought leaves his body as Ian kisses him like a man possessed. It’s aggressive and biting and all consuming, and his skin feels like it is ablaze. Mickey wants more. His body is screaming for it. He’s waited so long, and he doesn’t want to wait any longer. Pulling away, he gets down on the blanket on his hands and knees, his ass presented to Ian, to his alpha. Slick is now oozing out of his hole and he’s not ashamed about it for the first time in his life. Looking over his shoulder at Ian he says, “See how wet I am for you, Alpha.”

Ian drops to his knees behind him and spreads his ass cheeks, moaning and growling at the sight of his needy hole. “Let me taste you Omega.”

“Want it, want you so fucking bad Ian. Please,” he whines.

Ian leans in and licks across his hole, gathering the slick in his mouth. Then he swirls his tongue around his rim before pushing inside him. Mickey grabs the base of his cock to stop himself from cumming. It feels so fucking amazing. He thinks he might die from the ecstasy.

“Oh Mickey baby, you taste as good as you smell, so sweet and sugary. Could eat you out all day but I want to fuck you, cum inside you, make you mine.”

“Want that too,” he says, looking back as Ian sinks his tongue inside him again. “Slide your cock inside me, Alpha. Ian, make me yours.”

Ian manhandles him, almost throwing him onto his back, then pushes his legs back to expose his ass. “I won’t bite you, not yet, not here. But know that is what I want—to be bonded, mated for life.” Mickey nods his understanding and then Ian is pushing inside him. He throws his head back, eyes closing and mouth opening in a silent scream as the alpha fills him up. It’s as if his body is made up of millions of pleasure receptacles—all firing at once. It’s nothing like fucking himself with a toy, and he babbles incoherently as he grabs for Ian.

The alpha obliges and settles over him, so they are chest to chest and kissing deeply. Pulling back, Ian asks, “Are you okay, baby?”

“Yes, fuck me, don’t hold back,” he says, reaching down and grabbing Ian’s ass.

Ian begins thrusting in and out of him, slow at first, rolling his hips so it’s deep and sensual. Ian is breathing him in, licking at his scent gland, and Mickey wants to tell Ian to bite down, to claim him. Why are they waiting, it’s what they want, isn’t it? 

Soon his alpha is giving it to him hard and fast, his prostate being rubbed with every stroke. Mickey knows he will cum soon, he needs to release so badly. “Knot me, alpha. Ian, want you to fill me up.”

“Are you sure?” Ian grunts. “My knot is big, Mickey. Maybe not the first time.”

“Want to feel it. Please Ian, please knot me.”

“Oh Mickeeey,” Ian says, and then Mickey feels it. The knot swells fast, and he feels his hole stretching, ready to accept it. He wants it, he feels open and vulnerable and free. It’s so tight, but it’s so good. Just as Ian locks in place, Mickey cums, his body pulsing as he shoots his load between them. And then Ian cums, too. Mickey can feel it inside him, and he grabs Ian’s face and licks into his mouth as the euphoria takes hold.

“My omega, mine, mine,” Ian whispers against his mouth.

All Mickey can think is ‘I love you, I love you.’

“I love you too, Mickey,” Ian says, pulling back and looking down at him.

“What? What did you say?” he asks, holding Ian’s face.

They are still locked together, waiting for Ian’s knot to subside. They are soaked in sweat and Ian looks as confused as Mickey feels.

“I said I love you too.”

“Ian, I didn’t say it. But I was thinking it. I was afraid to say it too soon, but I do love you. I do.”

“Then that’s all that matters, my beautiful Omega.” Ian cradles his face with one hand. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

When Ian’s knot is down, he pulls out slowly. Mickey almost laughs at the amount of slick and cum leaking out of his ass. “It was fuckin’ incredible. Did you…did you like it?” he asks, worried he didn’t satisfy Ian enough.

Ian kisses him on the nose, the forehead, each cheek, then his lips. “Mickey, it was everything. I’m only sorry I didn’t last longer. I just couldn’t stop myself. You turn me on so fucking much.”

Mickey preens; this is what it feels like to be an omega. It’s the first time he’s felt proud of who he is. “Can we sleep naked for a while?”

“Course baby. Let me clean us up first.”

*****

After cleaning up Mickey and then himself with the bathing water, he joins Mickey under the blanket. He wants to smash the light globe and be thrown into darkness, just him and Mickey pretending to be somewhere else—perhaps in their own bedroom, in their bed, safe and happy. He wonders if they will ever get the chance to live that life.

Mickey has laid his head on Ian’s chest and thrown an arm and leg over him. Ian smiles as he strokes up and down Mickey’s arm. He didn’t expect to fuck Mickey tonight, but he’s glad it happened. It was everything he could have hoped for and more. It was like Mickey’s body was made to be his perfect match; being inside Mickey, his scent, his taste, felt like home. Mickey is his omega and will soon go into heat. Ian hopes with all his heart, he can claim Mickey and become a bonded pair, and that it will happen far away from this hell hole. Then he remembers who Mickey is and his heart drops. Mickey is a criminal—wanted by the US government. Ian is a Ranger, obligated to turn him over to the authorities. What the fuck is he going to do? There is no way he can be separated from his mate. They can’t survive years apart while Mickey serves a long prison sentence—one that he doesn’t even deserve now Ian knows his abusive father forced him to take part. Maybe if he testifies on Mickey’s behalf, they will be lenient?

“Ian, what’s wrong? You’ve tensed up.”

He squeezes Mickey and kisses his temple. “Nothing. Just going over our escape plan in my head. Get some sleep.”

“I love you,” Mickey says, lifting onto one elbow to look down at him. Ian could get lost in those blue eyes. Mickey leans forward and they kiss softly, lovingly.

“I love you too. Now turn over baby.”

Mickey turns onto his side and Ian spoons him from behind. As Mickey drifts off to sleep, Ian gently rubs his wrist glands over his omega’s body, scenting him, hoping it will mask the omega scent. If nothing else, it will let those motherfuckers know Mickey belongs to him. And he will fight to the death for his omega.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My aim is to get the next chapter of MEET ME AT THE TRACK up by next Tuesday 29th and then chapter 7 of CAPTIVE up by 2nd or 3rd of January. 
> 
> Please kudos, comment and subscribe (or user subscribe) if you are enjoying this fic! You know I love to hear your thoughts and comments!! If you would like to follow me on twitter you can find me @dancelovermk
> 
> WISHING ALL MY READERS A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS WHEREVER YOU ARE IN THE WORLD!! Stay safe! Christmas can be great for some people and hard for others - so please remember to check in on your friends and family that you are not catching up with or to reach out if you are feeling down. I always get depressed at this time of year - with Christmas, then my dreaded birthday, then New Years all in the space of a week it's a bit too much for this introvert! Anyway, sending you all virtual hugs! Let's not end up clowns on the 27th! Praying for a meaningful storyline, and soft and loving husbands. Heaven only knows what this Hall of Shame episode will be!!!  
> Rach xx


	7. Captivity, Days 6 & 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Mickey hope to escape as day 6 in captivity begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added a tag - it is literally just a mention of the topic - zero details - but please check if you have any possible triggers.

** DAY 6: **

Mickey can feel his pulse everywhere—his blood pumping hard and fast as his body prepares for what is about to happen. They are both in position with Ian in one corner under a blanket - playing dead - with the knife in his hand. Mickey is in the other corner, sitting up against the wall with the alpha scented blanket around him. His mind wants to think of Ian, of what it felt liked to be fucked, but more importantly, to be loved. But he can’t because he needs to focus on escaping.

Nightmares of Ian being shot had plagued his sleep. More than once his body jerked awake, drenched in sweat and fear. Ian had shushed him back to sleep, strong arms and soft lips calming him.

Mickey knew it couldn’t be much longer; he didn’t think they wouldn’t leave them two days in a row without fresh food or water.

The faint sound of voices drifts down the corridor and he whispers, “Time, Gallagher.”

He spots only three guards, the one who speaks some English plus two others who are carrying a new pail of bathing water, plus food and drinking water. Three guards will give them a much greater chance of success, and for a moment he dares to hope.

Before the guards reach the cell door, one speaks, “We bring extra food and water. Milkovich, you ready. Later we come for you.” The cell door opens and the two guards with food and water enter. Mickey knows they need all the guards in the cell for the escape to work. Mickey’s job is to get all three inside and within Ian’s striking range.

“What is smell?” The guard outside says, sniffing the air, confusion descending upon his face.

Holy fucking shit: the guard can smell him. In his mind he talks to Ian, willing the Alpha to stay calm _. ‘Ian, wait, they are not all in the cell yet.’_

_‘Lure them in Mickey.’_

Mickey doesn’t understand how he can hear Ian so clearly, but he can. The two guards are heading back out, but he has to stop them. “I think he’s fuckin’ dead,” he says.

A deafening sound is accompanied by the entire room shaking. The light flickers off and back on before he can get to his feet. Ian is already up and halfway across the room when the frantic guards pull the cell door closed. Neither he, nor Ian, make it across the room before the door is locked, the sound of automatic rifles filling the air. The guards pull their guns off their shoulders as they race down the corridor, turning to the right as a second bomb explodes above them. Little grains of dust rain down from the ceiling and they both turn to each other, ready for the building to collapse in on them. Ian grabs him and pushes him down to the ground, blanketing his body over him.

“Is it the military?” he asks.

“I…fuck…I hope so,” Ian replies. Mickey doesn’t understand the doubt in Ian’s voice. It sounds like Ian isn’t 100% in favour of the military rescuing them. And then understanding hits him like a freight train as a new batch of adrenaline strips him of his strength. Mickey is a criminal. Mickey is a wanted man. Ian is a U.S. Ranger. Yelling, gunfire and smaller blasts continue upstairs while Mickey’s heart aches with the prospect of being separated from Ian. Of never having the chance to bond for life.

After about ten minutes, Ian stands and pulls him up to his feet. The building is still standing, and the gunfire is sporadic. Ian holds Mickey’s face in both hands and looks at him; green eyes filled with fear. “Mickey, we may not have much time left. I want you to know I will do everything I can to help you. I will fucking lie in front of a judge, to my superior officers, everyone. You will tell them you were forced by your father, continually beaten, and you would have been killed if you didn’t comply. Stick to the story. I will back you up. You understand?”

“I do. But I don’t want you risking your career for me.”

Ian lets out a growl, face twisting in anger. “Omega, you will do as I ask. It is my job to protect you. Promise me, Mick.”

Ian crashes their lips together and kisses him so hard it almost hurts. “Promise me, Mick,” Ian repeats.

“I promise.”

Ian gathers him up in his arms and Mickey feels small and fragile as Ian cradles his head and nuzzles into his neck. But it’s not a bad feeling, it reminds him of his childhood, of a time when someone else loved him, such a long time ago.

Minutes tick by then all sounds cease.

Ian lets go of him and starts pacing the length of the cell.

Ten minutes, maybe twenty, and no one comes for them. Mickey wants to ask Ian what is happening. Where are the marines or the rangers? Why can’t they hear anything but deathly silence? What the fuck is going on? But he just stands at the cell door, eyes focussed down the corridor, wondering what that bitch Fate has in store for him.

*****

Ian took hours to get his mind in order. Part of him is relieved the US military didn’t rescue them—because that means he doesn’t have to face being separated from Mickey or having to watch him be dragged away in handcuffs. But this, whatever this is, is looking like a death sentence for them both. The most likely scenario being the militia has been attacked by a rival group—possibly for control or a weapons snatch, he didn’t know. If everyone has been killed and the attackers have not found the basement, then they would die down here of starvation or dehydration. Not a death anyone wants to endure. He thinks of the knife, then pushes it aside. “Mick, we need to ration the food and water. We don’t know when someone will be here with more supplies.”

“Ian, you and I both know that everyone’s fucking dead or run off. There’s no fuckin’ point.”

“Mickey,” he says, taking the omega’s hands, “We have to do everything we can to survive. The military may still find us. Or even Colin might, he’d be looking for you. They’ve given us two days’ worth of food so we can stretch that to six. They brought the bathing water—there’s a lot in there—so we’ll have that once we finish the water jug.” Ian watches Mickey’s eyes fill with tears. “Babe, don’t give up hope yet.”

“What about Mandy? She could be dead already. I basically fuckin’ killed my sister.”

Ian takes Mickey over to the blankets and sits down, his legs spread so Mickey can sit between them. Once Mickey is joins him, he wraps his arms around the omega’s waist and pulls him back so Mickey is resting against his chest. “Tell me about Mandy. I want to know her.”

Mickey huffs a chuckle, “She would’ve loved you, I’m sure of it.”

“I’m sure I will love her when I get to meet her.” Mickey is silent, so he tries again. “Is she older, younger? What does she do? How did she avoid the family business?”

“She’s two years younger than me so she’s 26—same as you—and we both have black hair, blue eyes and a smart mouth. But she’s a beta. Haven’t seen or spoken to her in five years, and I fuckin’ miss that crazy bitch. She’s the only person I ever told I was gay. And she didn’t give a shit. I was all pissed off and ready to defend myself and you know what she said?”

“What’d she say?” he asks, then places a kiss to the top of Mickey’s head.

“She said, and what’s your fuckin’ point?”

Mickey laughs and it warms Ian’s heart to hear it. “She’s a straight talker like you, Mick. We’ll probably end up best friends.”

Mickey sits up, pulling out of Ian’s arms and resting his face in his hands. Ian rubs Mickey’s back to comfort him. He knows Mickey has more to tell him, and he’s willing to wait until he’s ready to talk. A few minutes tick by, then Mickey speaks quietly, “My Pops raped her. And it wasn’t the first time when me and Colin found out. We set her up in New York with an apartment and some money and then cut all ties. It was the only way to protect her. We couldn’t risk Terry finding her through us. But it was a fuckin’ high price to pay—for her and for us.” 

Mickey sniffles and Ian realises the omega is crying, so he pulls Mickey back, the man turning around and pressing himself to Ian’s chest. “You did what you thought was best for her. When we get out of here, you can have her in your life again.”

“Wishful fuckin’ thinking, Gallagher.”

“Wishful thinking’s all we’ve got right now so I’m gonna take it.” He lifts Mickey’s chin and plants a soft kiss to those pouty lips he’s already grown to adore.

“Tell me about your brothers and sisters,” Mickey says, resettling back against his chest.

“Well, there’s a whole bunch of them. As I told you, Fiona is the eldest, seven years older than me - and she raised us. Monica was always running off and Frank was passed-out drunk most of the time. Wouldn’t be alive without Fi looking after us. Then next in line is Lip—which is short for Philip. He’s the same age as you. Then I’m next. Debbie is five years younger than me and Carl is six years younger. The baby of the family is Liam, and he’s thirteen years younger than me.”

“That’s a lot of Gallagher’s. You close with them?”

“Love all my family, but I’m closest to Lip. He’s always looked out for me and he was the first one to find out I was gay. I’m lucky—none of my family gives two shits that I’m gay.”

“What about the army? They give two shits?”

“I didn’t flaunt it, but I didn’t hide it either. Had to deal with fuckheads at Westpoint but once I got promoted, no one said shit to my face.”

*

Later in the day they discuss how they are going to ration the food and how much water they should consume each day. They do some light exercise—it’s important they keep moving for their physical and mental well-being. Ian wants to keep them motivated, so he forces Mickey to partake in some made up games like using a shoe as a ball and trying to throw the knife from a distance, blade first, into Mickey’s old pants. It makes them both laugh; ribbing and teasing each other. Every time they wrestle it turns into a make-out session and Ian is all for it. It makes him feel alive. Reminds him how much they need to fight to survive now they have each other.

When they think it is night-time, they sit and eat their small portion of food as slowly as they can. Ian picks up his last bite and feeds it to Mickey, who at first refuses, but then relents with a look of pure love on his face. Ian will take care of him. Once Mickey takes the food from his fingers, Mickey holds his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm once he has swallowed. Heat rises between them and Mickey sucks two of Ian’s fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue and sending blood rushing to his cock.

Mickey pushes him down onto the blanket and climbs on top, kissing him slow and deep. Ian doesn’t normally enjoy an omega taking the lead sexually, but with Mickey it’s different. He sees confidence rising in Mickey, an awakening as he explores who he is, and what he likes. It’s sexy.

When Mickey strips him of his clothes and trails kisses down his body, he is not prepared for the sizzling heat that is Mickey’s mouth around his cock. He thrusts gently up, body quivering with pleasure. “My perfect Omega,” he moans, reaching down and running his hands through thick black hair. Mickey moans with desire and Ian lifts his head up to watch those plump swollen lips slide up and down his cock. He can smell Mickey’s arousal and knows that his hole is already slick and wet, waiting to be filled. “Wanna make love to you, babe.”

Mickey pops off his cock and stands up, stripping off his clothes. “Want to be good for my Alpha.” Mickey sinks down to the floor, straddling Ian’s hips, then takes him deep inside. Ian grasps at Mickey’s thighs as the omega rides him slow. So slow. The teasing is intoxicating, and Mickey adds to Ian’s pleasure by playing with his own dick. It’s an omega cock, so it’s smaller than normal, but it’s thick and pretty and Ian still hasn’t had it in his mouth. And he so wants it in his mouth.

“Ian, you smell so good, makes me wanna cum all over you. Makes me want to please you, Alpha.”

Ian surges up to sitting, so they are chest to chest with Mickey in his lap. Plunging his tongue inside Mickey’s mouth, he wonders how long he can last. He takes a hand down to Mickey’s ass, feeling where they are connected—Mickey’s rim stretched tight, slick leaking out. “Oh, Mickey baby. You’re so turned on your slick is leaking out even with me inside you, filling you up.”

“You make me so wet, Ian. Can’t stop it. Feels so good, my slick on your cock, making the slide in and out so smooth, so perfect.” Mickey throws his head back, moaning loudly as he continues his torturously slow ride.

“Fucking hell, Mickey,” he whines, gathering slick on his fingers and bringing it to his lips. “You taste like sugar.” Mickey looks down at him as he licks his fingers clean.

“Want you to knot me, Alpha. Need to cum.” Mickey holds his face and licks into his mouth and that’s all Ian can take. He lifts them up and flips Mickey onto his back, holding him tight so his cock doesn’t slip out. Then he thrusts into Mickey like he’s lost his mind. And he has, hasn’t he? Lost his mind to Mickey, for forever on.

Mickey moans and mumbles under him, jerking his cock. Ian feels the need to bite Mickey and his mouth licks and sucks over the scent gland. They haven’t discussed when they will do it, but it’s almost painful to deny himself, the instinct so strong. 

“Knot me, Ian, knot me, please.”

The moment Mickey gives his permission he lets go, his knot swelling fast. He pushes in deep, locking them together and he cums hard, growling loud and long as the orgasm rips through him. Mickey cums seconds later, legs and arms holding Ian in close.

“More Alpha, give it to me, want all your cum,” Mickey says, eyes unfocused and black with lust.

Ian bites into Mickey’s neck just above the scent gland and cums again. 

“Can feel your cock pulsing for me, Alpha. Feels so fuckin’ good.”

“All for you, Mickey. Only for you.”

Ian collapses onto Mickey’s chest, exhausted but sated, and they wait for his knot to subside. 

They clean up and fall asleep almost instantly, their naked bodies clinging to each other like they are the last two people on earth.

*****

** DAY 7: **

Mickey awakens first. It feels as though they have been asleep for a long time, but he cannot know for sure. There is not a sound to be heard, and it feels both peaceful and terrifying all at once. 

If he thought his first time getting fucked was good, his second time was fucking fantastic. Taking some control made him feel sexy and confident. Ian’s praise and lust for his body filled him up in a way he had never experienced before. Looking down at Ian’s body, he runs his hand down the alpha’s chest. Ian’s body is perfect; he likes the definition of each muscle, sculpted and strong. Picking up Ian’s hand, he threads their fingers together and then leans over to connect their lips. He feels Ian’s mouth spread into a smile and it makes him smile too.

“Did you sleep well baby?” Ian asks, eyes fluttering open.

“I did, you fucked me so good I was out like a light.”

“You did most of the work last night. Fucking sexy when you ride me, babe.”

Mickey blushes at Ian’s words. The memory of rolling his hips with Ian laid out underneath him floods his mind and sends his temperature soaring.

Ian sits up and breathes him in, nuzzling into his neck, nose running across his scent gland. “Mick, your scent is so strong today. Fuck, it’s beautiful.” Ian licks and kisses at it and then Mickey feels panic. Is it happening? Already? Fucking Christ, please not in here.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Ian asks, pulling back to study him.

“Could I be going into heat?” he asks, voice barely a whisper.

“No, it’s too soon, isn’t it? Maybe 15 days after you stopped the suppressants. What fucking day is this?”

“I think it’s day seven. It _is_ too soon, isn’t it?” 

“I’m sure it’s just me getting more attuned to your scent now we’re fucking. Let’s get dressed and eat our morning ration and come up with a new game to play. Okay?”

“Kay.”

*

Mickey isn’t sure how many hours pass by, but he finds himself sorting the blankets in the corner of the cell and adds Ian’s shirt to it. He wants more and has his own shirt off before he notices Ian staring at him, jaw dropped and eyes wide.

“Mickey, what are you doing baby?” Ian says approaching him.

It takes Mickey a minute to analyse his actions, being so engrossed in them. “Fuck! What am I doing, Ian? Can you put this shirt on for me?” he says, passing his shirt to Ian. He feels weird, like he has no control over what he’s doing, like some sort of internal physical dialogue is in play. 

Ian reaches out and touches his face, then down his arm. “Do you feel hot, Mick? You look flushed.

Once Ian says it, he knows it’s true. Is this really going to happen? He’s been through a few heats on his own, but this is different. Is he fucking nesting? “I think it’s happening, Ian. Please put the fuckin’ shirt on for a while, I need more. Actually,” he says, dropping his sweats down, “put these on too. And give me your pants now.”

“Mickey, how much time do we have?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know. Put the fuckin’ clothes on and let me get ready.”

Ian removes his pants and Mickey almost snatches them from Ian, bringing them to his face, breathing in the scent. It calms him a little, and he adds them to his pile of things. Fuck, it’s not a pile of things, it’s his nest. Ian finally has Mickey’s clothes on, and that makes him feel better too, because soon they will be covered in his Alpha’s scent and Mickey can make his nest a bit more comfortable.

“Mickey…”

He sits down amongst the items he has and tries them out.

“Babe…”

Rearranging them, he tries to bunch the blankets up for more padding and lay the clothes on top. He’s got nothing on but his boxers, but he’s feeling hot. Shit, he wants Ian near him, he feels nervous. Anxious.

“Omega!”

Mickey is startled by Ian’s voice and looks up to find Ian standing over him.

“Mickey, you know this is going to be dangerous, don’t you? You haven’t gone through a heat in a while. It will be intense. We don’t have a lot of water to spare to cool you down.”

Reaching out, Ian takes his hand and sits down next to him. “I’ve gone this long before and been okay. And I had no one with me the other times. Did it on my own. I know you’ll look after me.” He climbs into Ian’s lap and attaches his lips to his alpha. Ian pulls away from him far too soon. “Need you, Ian,” he whines.

“I know, but we need to discuss something first.” Ian cradles his face, rubbing his thumb tenderly across Mickey’s cheek. “There’s a chance we may die here, and I want…Mickey, I need to know if you want me to claim you once you go into heat? I love you and if it ends here, I want us to be a bonded pair.”

Mickey’s heart is pumping so loudly he is certain Ian can hear it. “I want that too. Want to belong to you. I love you, Ian.”

Ian has tears in his eyes when he takes Mickey in his arms. “I can’t wait for you to be mine, Mickey,” Ian whispers into his ear. 

Mickey feels his body temperature rise again, beads of sweat breaking out on his skin. Just being in Ian’s arms causes slick to leak from his ass. He wants this. He wants Ian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please KUDOS, SUBSCRIBE AND COMMENT! 
> 
> Now, I have four chapters left on both this and Meet me at the track. I am struggling to write both simultaneously as one is in present tense and one is in past tense (don't ask! LOL) and I am constantly having to do heavy editing until my brain switches across. So, I am considering writing one to the end (will take 2 weeks) before returning to the other to finish that. Both of my WIP's will be finished by end of January. So next chapter (not sure which one) will most likely be Tuesday. 
> 
> ** If you haven't had a chance, please check out my latest one-shot 'FUCKIN' LOVE YOU' based on the hall of shame kiss! 
> 
> Hope everyone had an awesome NYE!  
> Take care!  
> Rachael x


	8. Heat, claim, bond. Captivity: Days 8 - 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!!!! Please read the last tag that I've just added - if this is of concern to you then please only read the first 5 paragraphs into "Day 10." There is no graphic discussion or detail but I want readers to know the topic is there.
> 
> As you all know - the boys have had moments when they appear to hear each other's thoughts. In this chapter, when that happens, I have used ITALIC font! 
> 
> I am really thrilled with this chapter and hope you love it as much as I do!

** LATE DAY 7 AND INTO DAY 8: **

Mickey’s heat comes on slowly, hours and hours of just feeling hot and anxious while he arranges and rearranges his pitiful nest. He wants more things to put in it but there is nothing to add. Ian hovers over him, trying his best to calm Mickey’s frayed nerves but with little success. One minute he is clinging to Ian, trying to climb inside his skin, and the next he is telling him to fuck off and give him some space.

When he went through a heat previously, he would be angry and frustrated, not understanding why he had to endure it. With Ian, it feels purposeful and necessary. Soon they will be permanently bonded, and their relationship cemented. Mickey just wants to get on with it.

Ian feeds him his dinner ration and then encourages him to get some sleep. It’s easier said than done and he grumbles at Ian, ‘You’re a fuckin’ alpha, you don’t know shit,’ then pulls Ian down into their nest, breathing in his intoxicating scent. He’s uncomfortable in his boxers, having gotten them wet with slick multiple times during the day, but he forces himself to focus on Ian whispering sweet things in his ear and gently stroking his back.

*

Mickey awakens abruptly. His skin is covered in sweat, his dick is as hard as titanium and slick leaks down between his thighs. And he’s on fucking fire. Every part of his being screams fuck me. His minds’ only thought is sex, arousal, and a carnal desire to be filled and seeded.

“Oh Mickey, your fuckin’ scent,” Ian says, then bites into the back of his neck as he manhandles him onto his knees.

“Fucking hell, Ian, I’m burning up. Get in me, alpha.” Ian pulls Mickey’s boxers down, but it’s not fast enough. He puts his head down and reaches back to separate his ass cheeks, “Put your big fuckin’ alpha cock inside me.” Mickey can hear the whine in his own voice, the desperation.

Ian laps at his ass, licking up his slick and breathing savagely. Growling. “Fuck me, Alpha,” he yells, taking his cock in hand and giving it a good jerk. Ian slaps his ass hard and then slams that alpha cock into his hole. They both groan at how euphoric it feels. Mickey pushes up onto his hands and thrusts back on Ian’s dick while the alpha pounds him from behind. His body sizzles with lust as they fuck and fuck and fuck.

Satisfaction begins to take over as his body gets what it wants. His alpha gives it to him good and hard and fucking loves it. “You feel so fuckin’ good, Ian. Let me see your face.” Ian pulls out, and he whines at the loss, his body frenzied once again.

“I got you, baby,” Ian says, as he flips Mickey over onto his back. Mickey lifts his legs up, spreading them wide as Ian resettles between them. Ian leans over and licks the pre-cum off Mickey’s dick, then swallows him down once before lining up and pushing back inside him. His eyes roll back in his head, he’s dripping in sweat and pleasure consumes his every thought, every fibre of his being.

“Alpha, want your knot. Need it to fill me up. Need more Ian. Fuckin’ more.” He grabs at Ian and pulls him down so their chests are flush. Licking into Ian’s mouth, their tongues swirl around each other and he feels Ian’s knot swell.

Ian pulls his lips away and buries his face in the crook of Mickey’s neck, inhaling harshly and grunting with each thrust. “I want you Mickey, gonna make you mine.” Ian licks over his scent gland and the knot grows and grows. It feels bigger than ever before.

“Do it Alpha, make me yours. I love you, Ian. Please claim me, please.” Mickey pants and moans and he feels tears form in his eyes, it’s almost too much. Ian locks inside him, the knot stretching him to his absolute limit.

Ian lifts himself up and looks at Mickey. “I love you, Mickey.” Then Ian cums deep inside him. Mickey can feel the warmth, the pulsing of Ian’s cock and then Ian sinks his teeth into his scent gland. And for a second the pain is blinding, and he thinks he will scream, but then he cums. His vision turns white as his body transcends to another place. A place where his body throbs with pleasure, consuming him, devouring him. It’s the physical manifestation of love, and it’s fucking glorious.

When he comes back to reality, Ian is licking over the bite, healing it and soothing it, moaning with approval and pride. He knows that his Alpha is pleased with him.

_My beautiful, sexy Omega. My Omega._

_Yes, Ian, I am yours and you are mine._

Ian captures his mouth, ravages him, licking inside, sucking on his tongue, biting at his lips. They are still locked together, and Mickey can hear Ian’s thoughts as if they are his own.

Mickey grabs his own cock between their bodies and strokes it firm and slow. _Want you to cum in me again, Alpha._

Ian pulls away and cups his jaw with one hand, “Mickey, I can hear your thoughts. Anything for my Omega. You take my knot so good.” Ian rocks their bodies together, the urge to thrust still irresistible. Mickey shoots his second load between them, Ian’s movements causing his cock to rub against his prostate. Ian gathers up some of Mickey’s cum and then licks it off his fingers, throwing his head back, growling and cumming hard with the taste. When Ian’s body finally stops shuddering, he collapses on top of Mickey. They hold each other; fingers roaming gently over flushed skin as they adjust to being bonded. Mickey nuzzles Ian, sensually rubbing his face against Ian’s neck and then up to his jaw, before kissing him deep and long. Ian’s big hands stroke and squeeze as they map a journey up and down his body. The harder Ian grabs at him, the more he surrenders to his Alpha. Ian has his heart and his body.

After a while Ian’s knot goes down and Mickey feels almost normal again. The intense fever and aching need to be fucked has subsided. For now. The bite hurts and he touches it hesitantly. Ian is thinking about cleaning Mickey up and looking after him before it starts again. He now knows that those previous times he thought he heard Ian, he really did. This telepathic connection they seem to have has simply been intensified with bonding.

Ian pulls out of him gently. “You’re right, baby. We have can hear each other. We’ll talk about it later, but first I need to clean you up.” With a loving kiss to his forehead, Ian leaves Mickey in their nest and walks over to the bathing water, dunking his wife beater into the pail and then wringing it out. Ian returns, kneeling down beside him, wiping the cum off his stomach, then the mixture of slick and cum from between his legs and ass cheeks.

“Come here,” he says, once Ian has finished. Ian lies down beside him, and they tangle themselves together, bodies pressed close. “How do you feel? What was it like to claim me?”

Ian gives him a few soft kisses before replying. “It was so much more than I imagined. It felt like I was becoming a different person. I am different. I can feel you; what’s in your heart and your head. And it’s beautiful, Mickey. You are so beautiful and you’re mine. Forever, until death takes us. 

Mickey feels like he’s bathing in love and it’s fucking incredible. Pressing his lips to Ian’s, he kisses him hard and holds him tight. Ian is part of him, and he is part of Ian, and if he dies, this is the one thing in his life he is grateful he got to have. _Love you, my Alpha._

_Love you, my Omega._

*****

** DAY 8 AND INTO DAY 9: **

Ian has been giving Mickey sips of water all night and all day. It’s not enough, and Mickey needs more. It’s killing Ian not being able to care for his omega properly. They have fucked so many times and while he loves nothing more than to fuck Mickey, his body is struggling without food to replenish his energy. But he’s so proud of Mickey, making it through his heat in this god forsaken place.

As he’s stroking Mickey’s damp hair off his forehead, he observes the signs—first it’s Mickey’s skin flushing a rosy red, then little beads of sweat appear all over his body, and last, his scent bursts into the room as slick leaks from his ass. It doesn’t matter how many cycles they go through; Ian’s dick still goes hard in seconds as he growls low with lust. He wants to do a lot of dirty, kinky stuff with Mickey, and he will once this heat is over, but for now his job is to service his omega. The only way to do that is to fill Mickey’s thoroughly stretched hole, knot him, and cum as many times as possible.

“Fuck, Ian. It’s coming again. Can feel it rising. Is my ass ever gonna be tight again?”

Ian chuckles, “Of course it is, baby. I know you’re tired and thirsty, but you can do this. Roll onto your side. Gonna fuck you like this.” He moves in closer, spooning Mickey and sliding his hard cock between his Omega’s butt cheeks. His cock glides through the wetness, catching slightly as it passes over Mickey’s relaxed hole.

Mickey pants, and pushing back on his cock, a fresh wave of slick gushing out, coating the head of his dick. It’s fucking heaven.

“Alpha, I’m burning up again. What the fuck are you waiting for? Shit wanna ride you.” Mickey sits up and pushes him onto his back, then straddles him reverse cowboy. This is new, Ian thinks as he watches Mickey line up and impale himself. Mickey goes to town on his dick, bouncing hard and fast, the sound of their bodies slapping together and the wet squelching sounds obscene in the silence of their cell. He loves that Mickey is not your average omega—the feistiness, the bossiness, the way he takes what he wants – it all turns him on. A meek and mild omega could never keep his interest. Mickey was made for him.

After ten minutes of Mickey fucking down onto his cock, his Omega slows and rolls his hips sensually. It’s so fucking hot and the view is spectacular. “Oh Mickey, you sexy motherfucker. It feel good? It take the pain away, baby.”

“Fuck yeah, it does. Ohhh,” Mickey sighs, “Ohh, I’m rubbing my sweet spot. The head of your cock is hitting it perfectly. Ohhh fuck.”

Ian wants to knot, the urge is blinding, but Mickey needs to fuck for longer or he won’t be satisfied. He wants to see Mickey’s face, see what he’s doing. “What are your hands doing baby?”

“I’m tweaking my nipples with one hand and stroking my dick with the other. Spreading my pre-cum around the head of my cock, teasing myself. Doing it all soft and gentle, imaging you doing it. Then I fondle my balls, roll them, massage them. Alpha you make me wanna cum.”

“Hop off Omega and cum in my mouth, then let me fuck you from behind and knot you.”

Mickey lifts himself off and stands up to face him, one leg on each side of his thighs, while he sits up, so Mickey’s cock is right in front of his face. Taking his hand up between Mickey’s legs, he pushes four fingers inside his ass and opens his mouth. Mickey jerks himself fast, moaning loudly as they watch each other intently. He continues to fuck Mickey with his fingers, knowing his mate needs to stay full. 

“Cum Omega,” he commands. Mickey shoots his load into his mouth, some missing and landing on his lips and his chin. He licks it off, wanting it all. Mickey’s mouth is on his the moment his orgasm subsides. They kiss hot and wet, mouths open, tongues twirling in the most filthy way.

“Tired,” Mickey says, falling down into his lap. “But need you to knot me. Still aching, still too hot.”

Ian gets Mickey onto his side and pushes back inside, then thrusts hard and slow, holding Mickey to his chest. “Let me take care of you,” he whispers in Mickey’s ear as he feels his knot swell. The moment they lock, Mickey turns his head and kisses him through his first orgasm. Once he stops shaking, he takes Mickey’s cock and strokes him to his second orgasm. He ends up cumming four times and Mickey three as they continue to kiss and moan and declare their love to each other.

*

When Ian opens his eyes, he realises his cock is still inside Mickey. He winces as he pulls out, his dick tender and sore from so much fucking. They must have fallen asleep the moment they finished. He needs to piss, but he doesn’t want to wake Mickey. Creeping over to the bucket, he hears Mickey think before he even stirs.

_Ian?_

_Just taking a piss, baby. Then I’ll get you some water._

_Kay. Love you._

He finishes up and gives his dick a shake, then retrieves the water jug. _Sit up._ Mickey does as he’s asked, and Ian gives him the jug to take a few sips. After taking one sip for himself, he puts the jug aside and sits down against the wall, pulling Mickey back between his legs.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Mickey asks.

“But it’s kinda cool too. We can use it to our advantage. If the fuckers come back, think how much easier it will be to escape when we can communicate without them knowing.”

“True. They fuckin’ won’t know what’s happening. You think it works if we are a long way away from each other? You know, fifty feet apart or miles apart or in different countries?”

Ian has his arms wrapped around Mickey’s stomach and his Omega is stroking lovingly up and down them. “Not sure. Guess we’ll find out,” he replies.

“You mean you hope we find out.”

Ian doesn’t answer, doesn’t have to, because Mickey can hear his thoughts on the matter.

After a beat of silence, Mickey changes direction. “I’d heard of some mates having a telepathic bond, but I always wrote it off as bullshit. Guess it’s not. You ever heard of it?

“Not only heard of it, but knew a pair that had it. My Mom and my Dad. Remember, I told you my Dad Frank wasn’t really my Dad. He’s my uncle. Well, my Mom had an affair with Frank's brother Clayton.”

“Wait, what? Your Mom and Frank were bonded and had this telepathic shit like we do, and your Mom cheated on Frank. Like she went outside the bond.”

“Yeah, she did. Told you she was sick and had bipolar. She cheated when she was manic. Now that I think about it, I remember Frank saying when Monica was a long way away, he could feel her moods but couldn’t hear her thoughts. They spent so much time apart, but they loved each other hard when they were together. Too fucking hard. I think Frank became a drunk because he couldn’t cope with hearing all my Mom’s thoughts when she was depressed and suicidal. Maybe I was too hard on Frank? Now I’m experiencing it for myself I can see how that would break a man.”

Ian is seeing his Dad in a whole new light and his heart rate jacks up at the thought of hurting Mickey like that. Like Monica hurt Frank.

“Ian, you won’t ever hurt me. You don’t have bipolar, you’re not Monica.”

Leaning forward, he kisses over Mickey’s scent gland ever so gently—wanting to remember his claim bite, gaining comfort from it. “Mick, sometimes I worry I’ll develop it. I was a lot like her. And maybe I inherited this telepathy thing from her.”

“And maybe we have it because we have a deeper connection than most mates. Maybe it was fate, and we were always meant for each other.”

Ian smiles and nuzzles into Mickey’s neck, inhaling his scent and peppering kisses up his neck. “I like your explanation better, let’s stick with that.”

*****

** DAY 9 DRAWS TO A CLOSE: **

Towards the end of the second day, Mickey’s heat cycle slows; they have longer breaks between fucking and the aching need to be filled recedes to something manageable. He recognises that being bonded has changed him irrecoverably. It’s like he and Ian are ‘one’ now, with thoughts and love flowing freely between them. There’s a knowledge residing deep in his bones that Ian will always love him, protect him and stay loyal, and the same is true in return. He knows they are family, just as he knows they cannot be parted. Even in this god forsaken cell he is at peace for the first time in his life. Ian sees him for all that he is—the good and the bad—and accepts him willingly. Lovingly.

Their nest is filthy but there is nothing they can do about it. Laying in Ian’s arms, he kisses his Alpha's chest as their hands and fingers entwine and stroke and grasp together. Mickey feels an intense thirst, and Ian’s stomach is grumbling with hunger, but they must stick to rationing. He hopes Colin will somehow find them.

“Don’t give up hope, Mick. From what you’ve told me, Colin is resourceful.”

Mickey is still adjusting to their new way of communicating. Sometimes they talk, other times they converse mentally, and like now, a mix of both. 

“You want kids?” Ian asks, lifting Mickey’s chin so they can look at each other.

“I never thought I did, but now, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. A few pups running around. Like the idea of a little red-haired girl.”

“Close your eyes, babe, and picture our life together. Tell me where we live and what we do while I rest.”

They settle back down, Mickey turning so Ian can spoon him, and he closes his eyes. “We live by a beach, somewhere remote and quiet, and no one is in a fuckin’ rush.” Ian hums his approval and pulls him closer. “We run some little business—just enough to keep us going but also give us time to enjoy life. And so you can fuck me whenever I want.”

“Whenever you want, huh? Been pretending to be an alpha for so long you still think you’re calling the shots my bossy Omega.”

“As if you’d ever deny me, Alpha,” he says, a smile spreading across his face.

“No, I won’t my gorgeous Omega.” Ian kisses his neck so lightly it almost tickles. “What about these kids? When are we having them and how many?”

Mickey’s mind wanders off, thinking about how fucking weird it would be to be pregnant. He’s not sure he wants to go through that part, and he’s one hundred percent sure as shit he doesn’t want to go through giving birth.

“Mickey, don’t think about that part. It’s only nine months and then you get a kid for a lifetime. Come on, tell me more.”

Ian’s words are slowing, and his Alpha will soon be asleep, ready for a much-needed nap before they fuck again. Mickey knows he’s telling Ian a bedtime story, a fairy-tale if you will. They need all the comfort they can get, so he continues. “Our first born is a red-haired girl and we name her Monica after your mom, if you’d like that. She’s feisty and a bit of a tomboy and doesn’t take shit from anyone. Then a couple years later we have a boy.”

“He better look like you, Mick,” Ian says, voice wide awake again. “I want my son to be a mini-Mickey.”

“Fuckin’ calm your tits, Ian. Okay, our second kid is a boy with black hair and blue eyes. What do you want to name him?”

“What’s your second name?”

“Aleksandr. Spelt the Ukrainian way. You sure you want to load our kid with that?”

“I like it. What about Aleksandr Clayton Gallagher?”

“That’s got a nice ring to it. Aleksandr wants to be a soldier like his daddy and plays with toy guns. I can picture you with him—running up and down the beach playing together. You’re gonna make such a good Dad, Ian. I know you’ll look after our little girl. Treat her like a princess. Protect her. We’ll spend Saturday’s fucking all night and then the kids will wake us up too early on Sunday morning and I’ll be a grumpy asshole, but then I’ll let them climb in with us. We’ll spoil the little shits. Wanna give them everything I never had. Want them to know I love them unconditionally—whoever they are, whatever they are. And we’re not gonna fuckin’ hit them either. We’ll learn all that new age bullshit—you know, reason with them and give them a time-out. Maybe Mandy will live close by and you two can shit me up the wall. I just know—fucking know—you two will side together against me.” Mickey laughs, what he wouldn’t give for Ian and Mandy to become friends. Ian is asleep now. He knows because Ian’s thoughts have faded and now it feels like colours and soft music. It’s a peaceful sleep and Mickey lets himself get absorbed in the feeling, joining his Alpha in slumber, the perfect life unlived dancing through his mind.

*****

** DAY 10: **

Ian thinks it’s bizarre to be so happy and high on love and also filled with sadness and loss. There’s anger mixed in there too—anger at not getting the chance to love Mickey how he deserves to be loved, anger at not getting the chance to live a life together. He wants to take Mickey on dates, and have lazy Sunday’s in bed, go on vacation, argue over stupid shit like who’s doing the dishes, have a family, grow old. They would be happy together; he knows it. He imagines them sitting on a front porch as grumpy old men, watching their grandkids play. Mickey’s eyes would still be blue and sparkling, even though he’d be bald and wrinkled. Ian smiles, happy to be lost in his thoughts and not in this cell.

Mickey’s heat must be over. It’s the end of the third day and Mickey has remained cool to the touch and calm since they last fucked around what he believes was lunchtime. It’s getting harder and harder to keep track of time. The constant light is slowly sending them insane. Even though they use the blankets to cover themselves when they sleep, it is never dark. It feels like day 24/7. 

Ian strokes Mickey’s hair. His omega is still napping after his last orgasm and he’s glad for some alone time. They can no longer hide anything from each other, the telepathy having both its positives and negatives. In time they may learn to shield their thoughts from each other, but right now they have easy access to each other’s minds. Time, he huffs out loud. If only they had some. 

Right now, he needs to think about what they’ll do if no one comes for them, and he doesn’t want to do that with Mickey listening. The food is almost gone; they can stretch it for one more day only. The water should last another three to four days, but Mickey is already seriously dehydrated from his heat. He too, is dehydrated but Mickey is worse. Just going through a heat in normal circumstances, with unlimited food and water, is exhausting, but this has left them both weak and drained. Maybe in different circumstances they could survive five days without water, but in the state they are in they will be lucky to make it for three.

Ian wants Mickey to live. If Ian dies now that they are bonded, then Mickey will be heartbroken for the rest of his days. A lump forms in his throat as he struggles to contain his emotions. Maybe he was selfish to claim Mickey? He was so caught up and in love and he just wanted Mickey to be his, and now he recognises how wrong his thinking had been. His plan should have been to save Mickey so he could go on and have a life outside these walls, find a mate, and be happy. Ian can’t stop the tears falling and he wipes at them angrily, disappointment drowning him. He knows what he must do—Mickey must have all the remaining food and water. It will guarantee Mickey lives at least another ten or eleven days. It will give him a chance.

Mickey jerks awake, gasping, and reaching for him. “Ian, Ian, what’s wrong? Fuckin’ tell me.”

“Shh, baby, shh,” he whispers, holding Mickey in his arms and stroking his back. “Everything’s okay, go back to sleep you need your rest.”

“Ian, I could feel your pain in my sleep. What were you thinking?”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” he says, forcing his mind to stay focussed on his love for Mickey.

“No one’s coming, are they? You’re thinking we’re gonna die in here. Ian, I’m so dehydrated I’m not gonna live very long after we run out of water. Will you end my life when the time comes? Take the water for yoursel-”

“What the fuck are you saying, Mickey?” he screams, anger exploding from deep in his gut. The surge of energy has him on his feet, his chest heaving, and breath laboured. He can’t look at Mickey, but he can’t escape Mickey’s thoughts either.

_Ian. My alpha. Don’t be fuckin’ angry. I love you. Your life means more to me than my own._

“And your life means more to me than my own too, Mickey.” Tears are streaming down his face. “I want you to have the life you deserve, to be free.”

“Ian, what you and I have makes me free. You’ve given me everything I thought I could never have, and I want you to live. You shouldn’t die for my mistakes. Please Ian, I couldn’t bear for you to die before me, to be alone in this cell without you.”

Ian finally turns around and sinks to his knees in front of Mickey. “You can’t ask me to do that, Mickey. I could never. I would die for you a thousand times over, but I _cannot_ take your life.”

Mickey reaches out and brushes the tears off his cheeks. “Then if the time comes, we use my knife and we go together. In each other’s arms. No separating, even in death. Promise me.”

Ian nods his head slowly, “I promise,” he says, then connects their trembling lips, pulling Mickey into his arms as they fall back onto the blanket and tangle their limbs, getting closer, always closer.

“Fuckin’ love you,” Mickey whispers against his mouth.

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I left this at a sad place and I'm sorry about that but I am super excited for the next chapter - which I hope to have up by Sunday! Hang in there everyone - I know it's been dark but they are bonded now and have everything to live for.
> 
> Please kudos, subscribe and comment. And user subscribe if you like my fics! Thanks for reading!   
> Take care - especially if you're in a country with high cases of covid - my thoughts are with you all. Feels like it will never end.  
> Rachael xx


	9. Captivity, Day 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey's heat is over as they face their final day with food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that this is a day later than expected -I had too much work to get through first. 
> 
> REMINDER: their thoughts (that they share via telepathy) are in ITALICS 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Physically, they’ve barely separated since their pact last night, and being connected keeps Mickey calm, makes him feel safe. From listening to Ian’s thoughts, he knows the Alpha has an overwhelming need to protect—there’s both aggression and possessiveness attached to it—and Mickey has a newfound understanding of the different ways omegas and alphas think.

Sitting on their blankets with the last of the food between them—a very stale piece of white bread—Mickey divides it into two equal shares. He’s fucking exhausted and feels like shit from both dehydration and hunger. Ian’s beautiful face is so pale, except for the black shadows underneath those emotive green eyes. The Alpha’s beard has fully grown in, and Mickey loves it. He wonders how bad he looks; touching his face and feeling how patchy the hair growth is.

“You could never look bad, baby,” Ian says, eyes filled with love, a smile reaching his lips.

“Yeah, whatever,” he says, shrugging off the compliment as his cheeks blush with pride. Mickey pulls off a small piece of bread and feeds it to Ian. And then Ian does the same for him. When they get to the last few pieces, Ian tries to distract him by thinking filthy thoughts so when Ian tries to feed him extra, he’s ready for it. “I know what you’re fuckin’ doing, Ian. I’m not eating your food, fuckhead.”

Ian laughs. And it makes him laugh too. They laugh like they’re fucking crazy until tears stream down their faces. As they recover, the mood shifts and Ian is on him in seconds, kissing him, sucking the oxygen straight out of his lungs.

A loud banging sound from upstairs brings their bodies to a halt, holding each other with their foreheads pressed together.

_Omega, hide under the blankets. Now!_

_Ian, my knife is by the bathing water._

_Stay quiet._

Ian goes into stealth mode, gliding silently across the cell to retrieve the knife as Mickey begins to climb under the blankets. Then he thinks about the aroma in the cell–his distinctive omega heat scent still undeniable and likely wafting down the corridor too.

_Ian, we should use me as bait. It will be easier for you to attack them while they are distracted._

Ian returns to his side; the deepest growl Mickey’s ever heard rumbling in the Alpha’s throat. It’s barely audible, but it speaks to Ian’s anger.

_Control your anger and fuckin’ listen to me, Ian. This is our best chance. They will be dead before they can touch me. Fuck, we don’t even know if it’s them. It could be friendlies._

_Mickey, I don’t fucking like it. Don’t want any man even looking at you like that. You’re mine.”_

Another noise from upstairs, and then they hear a voice. Arabic. _Fuck._

_Ian, trust me. Please babe. I can do this. I love you._ Mickey picks up a blanket and shoves it into Ian’s chest, pushing him away. Ian frowns, vacillating before heading over to the corner near the cell door and laying down under the blanket, knife in hand.

_I love you, too. Tell me everything as it happens._

The voices are getting louder. He needs to get his head straight and focus on what he’s got to do. He strips his shirt and boxers off and gets down on all fours as far away from the cell door as possible. His exposed, naked ass is facing the cell door and for a moment he panics.

_Mickey!_

Ian’s thoughts are full of doubt and mounting rage. _It’s okay, I’m okay. Stick to the plan._

Mickey looks over his shoulder just as two men turn the corner. They are unfamiliar, but they have the militia’s uniform on.

_Ian, two men only. Militia. Semi-automatic rifles._

The men approach, their voices getting louder, excited, as they catch the scent and see him naked on the floor. He pants and whines, then spreads his ass cheeks and yells, “Fuck me, come on fuck me.” Mickey has no idea if they understand English or not but based on the speed with which they unlock the door and then push inside, he figures they know what’s on offer. He feels fucking sick, terrified, and his body shakes. They don’t appear to even remember that another man is supposed to be in the cell with him.

_Ian, they are in. They seem fuckin’ feral. They’re so distracted they’ve forgotten about you._

“Please fuck me, I need it.” he says again, wiggling his ass and trying to remember how he acted when he was in heat.

The two men come and stand behind him. The door is left wide open. They take their rifles off their shoulders and drop them to the side.

_Alpha, now. Fuckin’ now!_

Mickey sees Ian slowly rise in his peripheral vision, but he keeps focussed on the guards as they argue with each other—presumably about who’s going first - as they undo their belts and unzip. The rage coursing through Ian is shocking even to Mickey; the Alpha almost blind with a need to rip the guard’s apart limb by limb. One of them already has his pants down and pulls his hard dick out. Mickey feels the exact moment Ian loses control, his scent releasing thickly into the room as he reaches forward and snaps the guard’s neck from behind. The sound is sickening, but nothing compared to seeing Ian pull the knife from his boxers, grab the second guard and stab him straight through the eye. The guard never had a fucking chance, his body dropping to the floor, the knife still sticking out of his eye.

_Clothes on, Mick. Including socks and shoes._

Mickey fumbles around the room, pulling on articles of clothing as his heart pounds against his chest. Ian has pulled the knife out of the man’s eye, the eyeball popping out of its socket as he extracts it. Ian then slides the eyeball down off the blade. Mickey’s seen a lot of sick shit in his life, but this almost makes him gag. The other man is lying on the floor, limp dick hanging out, head twisted at a perverse angle.

Mickey listens to Ian’s thoughts as they both dress; they are focussed on their escape mission, running various scenarios and potential problems. The thoughts are interspersed with phrases like, ‘he’s fucking mine’ and ‘you dare to fucking look at my Omega.’ Mickey is almost embarrassed as his dick swells with arousal; his Alpha is a badass motherfucker and if they had more time, he’d be on Ian’s cock in a heartbeat. 

Sixty seconds later they are both dressed and ready to move.

*****

_Mickey, kiss me._ Threading his hand through Mickey’s hair, Ian kisses him hard. He never wants another living man to set eyes on his mate’s naked body. It took all his willpower not to attack too early and blow the entire escape.

_Ian, don’t think about it anymore. Let’s get the fuck out of here._

_Check them for wallets and cell phones._

They check one guard each, locating only a wallet but also an energy bar. Ian shoves the wallet and food into his pants, then picks up a rifle and passes it to Mickey before grabbing the other one and throwing it over his shoulder.

_Mick, I’m going to avoid using the rifle. The less attention, the better. Stay behind me and follow my instructions. Don’t you dare fucking play the hero. This is the one time in our lives you will do as your Alpha commands you._

_You better not play fucking hero either._

He ignores Mickey’s comment. _Okay, drink some water and then we move._

Ian makes sure Mickey drinks enough water, then gulps down some himself. His heart rate is still elevated, but he’s capable of staying focussed and in control. He motions for Mickey to follow and they head cautiously down the corridor. Stopping near the corner, he listens. Nothing. He quickly pokes his head out and looks both right and left, noting the hallway is empty in both directions, before pulling back in. _All clear, Mick. Let’s go._

Although still in two minds about the knife, he holds it in his right hand as they move down the hallway towards the stairs. They almost make it to the end when he hears footsteps descending the stairs. He hurries to the corner and flattens against the wall. _Move back, get low._ Mickey does as he’s instructed. Ian takes a deep breath and focusses in on the sound. The moment the man turns the corner, Ian slams his hand over his mouth and stabs the guy in the side of the neck. Blood spurts and the man’s hands instinctively reach up to his neck. Knowing the guy will take a few minutes to bleed out, he pockets the knife and snaps the man’s neck to finish him off.

_Fuckin’ hell, Gallagher. Let me get the next one._

_No fucking way, Mickey. They are all alphas. Let me take care of this. Let’s keep moving._

Ian knows that what they find in that open living area will be a deciding factor in if they escape or not. By the time they are three quarters up the stairs, the stench of rotting flesh makes him want to gag. The returned men have yet to dispose of their dead. 

He can see the sofa—or the half of it that remains—with one man sitting, headphones on and looking down at his cell. The room is destroyed from the bombs, there is blood splatter on the walls, and parts of the ceiling have fallen in. He can’t see over to the pool table or down into the other areas of the house. But if there isn’t anyone else in that living area, then he only needs to take out this one man and they can make it to the door on the other side of the room. He turns to look at Mickey. _I have eyes on one man. Can’t see the rest of the room. I want you to stay at the top of these stairs, stay low. If I kill that motherfucker and the path is clear, I will call you to follow._

_And what if there’s more of them?_

_Then keep your cover and kill as many fuckers as you can. I love you._

_Love you too._

Ian takes a deep breath and moves to the top of the stairs, Mickey close behind. The man on the sofa is facing the opposite direction and doesn’t know they are there. With headphones in, Ian is hoping he won’t notice him until it’s too late. He pokes his head out and surveys the room. There’s no one else in sight, although he can see a body stinking up the room. _Can’t see anyone else, Mick. I’m moving._

He moves swiftly and is behind the man in a matter of seconds. It’s harder to snap someone’s neck at this angle—his speed and strength must be perfect. In one quick motion, and a fraction of a second, the man is dead. He turns to face Mickey. _Come, baby._

The sound of a gun being cocked pulls his attention.

“Don’t move, Lieutenant Gallagher.”

Jerking his head in the direction of the voice, he sees Amir standing there with a pistol pointed at his head. _Mick, it’s Amir. Pistol. At your 9 o’clock._

Amir chuckles. Ian can see he’s become a loose cannon. Unhinged. Not surprising since he’s lost most of his men. Ian’s rifle is on his back, which is pretty fucking useless. He raises his hands in surrender as he listens to Mickey.

_Trust me, Ian._

Mickey partially steps out, rifle raised and ready to shoot and says, “I fuckin’ wouldn’t if I were you.”

Amir flinches but keeps his gun steady on Ian, eyes flashing toward Mickey and back to Ian. He wonders if Amir will smell Mickey but decides it’s unlikely with the smell of rotting flesh filling the room.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Mikhailo. You kill me and you’ll never see your sister again. My New York men have strict instructions that if they don’t hear from me every 24 hours, then they are to kill the little fucking whore. So put your weapon down and let me take care of this American military scum.”

_Omega, stay calm he is baiting you. We can still save Mandy. The deadline is three or four days away._

_I know I know. On the count of three dive for cover._

_Fucking light him up, baby!_

Ian smirks as he listens to Mickey count down. He dives behind the couch on cue, Mickey shooting the fucking shit out of Amir. His only regret is not seeing the look on Amir’s face the moment he realises he’s a dead man. What he can see is his badass motherfucking Omega’s face—the pleasure of revenge dancing in his eyes. Fuck, he loves Mickey so much.

When Mickey stops shooting, he jumps up and yells, “Let’s fucking go G.I. Joe.” As they run for the door, he gets a glimpse of Amir on the floor, body riddled with bullets, and he thinks that sometimes there is justice in the world. He opens the door and pushes Mickey out first. They need to keep moving in case there are more men inside the house.

“Ian let’s take their jeep,” Mickey says, pointing off to the side of the house.

Ian surveys their surroundings. They are in the middle of nowhere and travelling on foot would be hard, especially if they can’t find food and water soon. “Keys?”

“Don’t need fuckin’ keys, Gallagher. Let’s go.”

They haul ass over to the jeep, Mickey getting in the driver’s side and pulling wires out from under the console. “You sure you know what you’re doing?” Ian reaches down, trying to see what Mickey is doing, trying to remember how to hot-wire a car.

“Fuckin’ move your hands and leave the goddamn stealing to the experts,” Mickey says, swatting his hands away. Two seconds later, the engine fires up and Mickey gives him a satisfied smirk.

“Drive, baby.”

*****

They drive for a full hour before they begin to relax. Mickey wonders if they are going in the right direction—wherever that may be. There is no need for words, but they hold hands and glance at each other often. Mickey thinks they are in shock. Neither of them thought they would get out, they thought they would die in there. It’s almost as if they are too scared to be happy, too scared to celebrate. And after the adrenaline spike, they are both in desperate need of sleep. “Let’s pull over, Ian. Don’t want to survive eleven days in captivity just to kill us in a car accident.”

“Yeah babe, you’re right. See those trees up ahead, pull off the road and see if you can park behind so it hides the jeep from view.”

Mickey slows down and steers the car off the road, pulling in behind the thickest trees and shutting the engine off. “Let’s take a look in the back. We should be able to stretch out and sleep in there.”

They get out and meet at the back. Ian lifts the tarp and lowers the tray, and their jaws drop. It’s full of food supplies and bottled water. “Fucking hell,” he says, pulling out a chocolate bar and ripping it open. Ian laughs at him and grabs two bottles of water for them. Ian ends up eating a fucking banana, then two slices of bread.

“Mick, don’t eat too much. You’ll be sick.” Ian removes the packet of chips from his hands and replaces it with an apple. “Here, eat something healthy. I’ll pull some of this stuff out so we can make room to sleep.”

Mickey sits on the edge of the tray and watches Ian go to work. Ian knows he’s thinking about how hot he looks lifting shit, muscles flexing, a layer of sweat breaking out on his skin.

“Just you wait until I’ve got my energy back, Mick. Gonna fuck you senseless.”

“I’m fuckin’ banking on it,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

Ian has removed about 50% of the food, leaving one side of the jeep clear. Toward the back they also find first aid equipment, two blankets, a torch, and tool kit. 

“Thank fuck for the blankets,” he says, spreading one out for them to lie on and rolling the other one up to make a pillow.

“Wish there was some money in here. We’ll need money to get a cell phone. And new clothes and a motel room once we find a town.”

Mickey climbs in and pulls off his boots. “Yeah, well I think I can help with that.”

Ian joins him, pulling the tray up and the canvas down. “And how are you going to do that?”

He’s learning how to keep his thoughts focussed elsewhere if he doesn’t want Ian to know what he’s thinking and he’s doing it now for added effect. “You never asked what was in the heel of my other boot.” A huge grin spreads across his face as he pulls out the roll of cash.

“What the fuck, Mickey? How much is this?” Ian asks, snatching the money from him.

“Equivalent to about a thousand U.S.”

“Fuck, I love you.”

Ian pushes him down and kisses him, a little rough at first, but slowing to something soft and loving. Soon they are in their usual sleeping position, Ian spooning him from behind and their hands threaded together.

“Mick, let’s nap for a bit and then we’ve got to put some more distance between them and us.”

“Love you,” he says, eyes already closed.

“You too,” Ian murmurs, pulling him in closer.

*

When they wake up, it seems to be late afternoon. Ian says about 5pm based on the sun’s position and who is Mickey to argue with a Ranger. They take some water bottles and snacks into the front cabin and decide to leave half the food by the side of the road. There is still enough to last them a week or more.

Ian drives this time, after Mickey hot-wires it again. The gas tank is three-quarters full. They drive for another five hours, finally reaching an area where there are houses dotted here and there. They need to break again, need a proper night’s sleep. It can’t be too much further to a city—and they need to find one because gas is low. Ian chooses a secluded spot and they eat again. Mickey feels a little more like himself, although he wishes he had clean clothes and a shower.

Once they are safely locked up in the back of the jeep Ian whispers in his ear, “Take off your clothes Mick, need to feel my Omega pressed against me.” They peel their clothes off and lay in each other’s arms. “Can I make love you?” Ian asks, hand stroking gently up and down his back.

“Hell yeah. Need you.”

Ian rolls on top of him, settling between his legs and kissing him softly. Mickey wraps his legs around Ian and encourages him to move. Ian does so with gentle thrusts, their cocks hardening with the friction, moans pouring into each other’s mouths. Mickey can feel his body producing slick, and while he wants, even loves it when Ian takes the time to worship his body, what he needs is his Alpha inside him. “Ian,” he pants, as Ian kisses down his throat and then across to smell and lap at his scent gland. “Alpha.”

“Yes, my Omega. Tell me what you want, what you need.”

“Just need you inside me. Want you to know I’m yours and only yours.” Memories from earlier in the day flash through his mind—those men pulling out their dicks and looking at him like he was nothing but a piece of meat.

“No, no Mickey. Don’t think about it. Stay here with me. Look at me.”

Mickey looks up into green eyes just as Ian repositions himself and pushes inside. They can feel each other’s emotions and it makes the moment so much more intense. Ian holds still, buried deep, tears threatening to spill. “Mickey, we’re free.”

Mickey is overcome with emotion too, reaching up to hold Ian’s face as the first tear falls. “You saved me, Ian, in more ways than you’ll ever know.” His voice cracks and tears roll down the sides of his face.

_I hear your thoughts and feel your emotions, Mickey. So I do know. And you saved me too._

He pulls Ian down on top of him - so they are skin to skin - and cradles Ian’s head as the Alpha nuzzles into his neck. Ian rolls into him, over and over again like waves gently rocking against a boat. It’s blissful and addictive, and he lets himself get lost in the pleasure. They make love for a long time, sharing thoughts, promises and dreams as they slowly build to a climax. When Ian’s knot locks them together, Mickey lets go. Guttural moans that sound like pain erupt from somewhere hidden deep within. Ian is cumming repeatedly, telling Mickey he loves him, and that he will always protect him. In this exact moment, he realises he is letting go of his past—of all the pain, all the fear, all the ugliness. Ian is his family and his future now, and he loves him almost more than his heart can bear.

For the first time in his life, he has hope. 

Because they are alive.

They are together.

And they are free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So only two chapters to go! I am still aiming to complete this within the next 7 days (obviously it will all come down to my work schedule) , then I will return to 'Meet me at the Track' the following week. So targeting a Thursday/Friday chapter and then next Monday for the last one. 
> 
> Please kudos, comment and subscribe - it's great motivation for an author to have some tangible evidence for their time and effort. I cannot tell you what a difference it makes! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!   
> Take care!!  
> Rachael x  
> You can find me on twitter @dancelovermk


	10. Free!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian face their first full day free from captivity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my lord - I completely underestimated the content of this chapter - it should have been two - but I pushed through to get it done - so a much longer chapter! I'm super happy with it and I hope you love reading it.
> 
> Just a reminder that their telepathic conversations are in ITALIC font. And a general reminder that they can basically hear each other's thoughts at all times - so when one is thinking, the other may verbally respond.

**FREE, DAY 1**

They sleep soundly under the black of night. Ian holds Mickey in his arms, the Omega’s face pressed into the crook of his neck. The darkness brings calm and peace after eleven days of never-ending light. Their bodies relax and melt into each other, becoming one, heartbeats in sync. 

Ian’s eyes flutter open when the morning sun sends a stream of light across his face. For a split second he is stricken with panic before relief washes over him. They are safe. He strokes his hand through Mickey’s hair as he plays over the events from the day before. It’s a miracle they got out alive, and he thanks God for giving them this chance.

The priority for today is to find a safe place to stay and buy a cell phone so they can find out about Mandy. Then they can face their own dilemma—which he sees no possible positive outcome for. It makes him feel sick to the fucking stomach. Somehow, he’s got to find a way, there’s simply no other alternative.

_Ian, you okay? Are you sick?_

Ian looks down at Mickey, the Omega’s half-awake thoughts coming through loud and clear. Sleepy blue eyes open and look at him with concern. A hand reaches up to stroke his cheek.

“Morning baby,” he says, grabbing Mickey’s ass and squeezing. “I’m fine. No, I’m great because I have you in my arms.” Leaning forward, he places a kiss to Mickey’s nose and then his forehead. “We should get moving, Mandy is our priority today.”

“Yeah, we should. Makes me nervous just thinking about it. What if we’re fucking too late? What if they…you know, touched her? Fuck!”

“You can’t think like that, Mick. Let’s just focus on reaching Colin and we’ll go from there. Get dressed and then we’ll eat.”

*

An hour later they arrive at the outskirts of a place called Daraa. They locate the stores they can get supplies from and find a motel in close proximity. He’s still worried about the militia. Even though he believes they killed all the men at the house, he can’t be sure. Even the slimmest chance of someone reporting the jeep stolen, and that leading to them being picked up by police is a concern. They are American citizens floating around Syria with no ID’s. Ian has his dog tags, which is something, but Mickey would immediately be under suspicion.

They both agree to dump the jeep outside of town and then walk back in on foot. After finding a location hidden from passing traffic, they take the first aid kit, two water bottles, a few snacks and head back. Physically, they are still in terrible shape—the effects of days without barely any food and water continue to leave them weak and fatigued. When they reach the town, they rest for ten minutes before pushing on. They look like shit and stink after not washing for days on end. People stare at them, so Ian protectively places an arm around his Omega. It’s a risk in a homophobic country, but he hopes being a strong Alpha will deter anyone wanting to start a fight.

First stop, they go into a clothing store and purchase jeans, sweats, boxers, socks, and t-shirts. Next up it’s the drugstore where they grab soap, shampoo, toothbrushes and paste, razors, shaving cream, hair clippers, and deodorant. Lastly, they pick up a cheap cell phone and begin their walk toward the motel. On the way there, Mickey stops in front of a bank.

“Ian, let’s go in and see if we can organise to get money transferred here. We’ve spent a lot already and we’ll need more—whether we’re staying here or travelling.”

“Okay, fuck yeah, you’re right,” he replies, wondering how tired he must be to not even think about their limited funds.

After some communication problems, an English-speaking employee comes over to help and gives them the run down on how they can receive money via transfer. They make up a stupid story about backpacking across the middle east and getting mugged—losing their cash and cards. The young girl is sympathetic and buys their story hook, line and sinker.

When they finally enter room 12 in the roadside motel, Ian wants nothing more than to collapse on the bed and sleep again. His legs are shaking from all the walking and he knows Mickey is in a similar, if not worse shape.

*****

“Can’t sleep, Ian. Not yet. We get onto Colin first, see what he knows about Mandy, and then we shower and sleep. If we have time. Fuck, what the hell can we do, anyway?” Mickey’s heart picks up pace and his body breaks out in a cold sweat as he paces the length of the room. “Jesus fucking Christ, Ian. We have no ID’s, no passports, I’m a wanted criminal. How the fuck can I save Mandy. I can’t get back to the U.S. Ian, I’ve been living in a fucking fantasy world.” He stops, turning to face Ian. “Will you go? Leave me here and find her? Save her?”

Mickey is not blind. And he’s not deaf. Ian is trying to shield his thoughts and failing miserably. His Alpha is conflicted to the point of pain—wanting to save Mandy but equally unwilling to leave him. The indecision is written all over Ian’s face and Mickey turns away, unable to look at him.

_Mickey, if that’s what you want, I’ll do it. But you understand, I’ll probably never see you again. Unless you turn yourself in and then it will be with glass between us._

Mickey grabs the cell phone and rips the packaging apart, pulling the phone out and turning it on, then plugging it into the charger. Ian is right, it is an impossible choice. Mickey doesn’t think he can live without Ian. Sometimes he can’t bear to be out of arm's reach of his Alpha. Pushing all negative thoughts aside, he tries to focus on remembering Colin’s cell number. The phone came loaded with some credit, but he doesn’t know how fast they will use it. He has no fucking idea if Colin is in Syria or the U.S.

He’s not sure of the last number, it could be a 3 or is an 8? Fucking hell, whoever remembers cell numbers these days? Punching in the number he thinks it is, he waits for it to ring, only to be met with a recording of ‘this number has been disconnected.’

“Mickey, try the 3 this time,” Ian says, sitting down on the bed in front of him.

Taking a deep breath, he taps the numbers and puts it to his ear, praying for it to be correct.

“Hello?” comes Colins voice through the cell, full of suspicion and caution.

“Colin, thank fuck!”

“Mickey, you fucking asshole. You’re fucking alive. Where are you, bro? Are you hurt?”

Mickey is shaking, and he’s got tears leaking out of his fucking eyes. He can hear Colin sniffling on the other end of the line. He sinks down on the bed next to Ian, almost in his lap, letting his head lean onto Ian’s chest. Those strong alpha arms wrap around him and it helps him pull it together. “We’re still in Syria, in a town called Daraa. But who gives a shit—what about Mandy?”

“Mick, she’s safe man. You don’t gotta worry.”

A sob erupts from his chest as relief floods his body. He didn’t know how much he was holding in until he heard Colin say she was safe. Ian is kissing his forehead and rubbing his back in soothing circles. “Where is she now? What happened?” he asks, voice cracking.

“As soon as I got the video, I got on a plane to New York. Mick, I went to her apartment with a fucking arsenal, ready to tear them limb from limb, but no one was there. It was just bullshit. I relocated her to L.A just to be sure and then flew back to Syria to find your sorry ass. I got a lead; well thought I had a lead. I’m in Jordan. What the fuck did they do to you? How did you get out? Are you alone? Fuck, I got so many questions, Mick.”

“They held us captive in this basement cell, no windows. Then they got attacked, we still don’t know by who, and they left us for days without food and water. Then a few of the fuckers came back, and we escaped.”

“You keep saying us and we. Who was with you? Are you still with them?”

“I’m with Ian. He’s a Ranger. They captured him as well. He’s the reason I’m alive.”

“Mickey, what the fuck? If he’s a Ranger, then he’s an alpha. Does he know? Bout you?”

Mickey’s voice softens, “Yeah, he figured it out after a few days without the scent blockers.”

He could hear Colin moving around, maybe standing up. “Mick, now you listen up. You gotta get away from him. He’ll turn you over to the authorities. You can’t trust a fucking Ranger. Mickey, what the fuck are you thinking? By law he’s got to bring you in.” 

Ian stops moving, hearing his thoughts as he contemplates coming out to his brother. It terrifies him, but he’s not ashamed of who he is anymore. He’s proud of what he shares with Ian. Proud of their love. Lifting himself away from Ian, he looks up into green eyes. _I love you._ “Colin, I can trust him. He’s…we’re…fuck, there’s only one way to say this. We’re bonded.”

There is complete silence and after a few seconds he wonders if they’ve been disconnected. “Colin?” he asks.

“What the fuck do you mean bonded? As in you _mated_ with him?” Colin’s voice is filled with confusion. “Did he rape you and claim you without your consent?” Colin explodes with anger, “I’ll fucking kill him, Mick!”

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his brother’s anger. “No! Hold the fuck up Colin. You’ve got it all wrong. I’m gay.”

“Gay?” Colin asks as if he announced he was an alien.

“Yes. Gay. And I love him. And he loves me. I’m fucking happy man, for the first time in my life. Need your support on this, bro.”

“Is Terry really dead? Our brothers?”

“Yeah, they’re dead.”

“And you’re happy being Omega for some Alpha?”

“Not some Alpha. He’s Ian, and he’s mine and yeah, I’m happy. He saved me, Colin. Risked everything for me. I owe him my life.”

Ian shifts, moving to sit back against the headboard, dragging him along so he’s sitting between the Alpha’s legs. Leaning back on Ian’s chest, he reaches up to run his fingers through Ian’s beard.

“So what now, Mick? What are you two gonna do? Because he’s a Ranger and you’re a wanted criminal.”

“We haven’t decided yet. Mandy was our priority. We still need to talk about it. Hey, can you wire me some money?”

“Course, bro. A grand cover you?”

“Yeah, I’ll text you the details and I’ll call again tomorrow to update you.”

“Okay. I’ll have the money sorted by tomorrow morning for you. Fucking glad you’re alive, Mick. Mandy will be fucking ecstatic.”

“You got her cell number?”

“Yeah, I’ll text it to you. I’ll stay here in Jordan until I hear from you tomorrow on what the plan is. Love you, you fucking shithead.”

“Love you too, fuckhead.”

He hears Colin erupt into laughter just before he ends the call, and it puts a smile on his face. By the time he’s texted the bank transfer details, Colin has sent Mandy’s number through. 

He phones Mandy straight away; they call each other names and cry like babies and laugh and then repeat. It’s been five years and five years too long. When she asks him if he saw Terry dead, as in, does he know for sure, it almost breaks his heart. “Yes, he’s dead so you never have to worry about him again,” he whispers to her. He tells her about Ian and being in love and bonded and she’s happy for him, asking him question after question. Finally, he just puts Ian on the phone. Within a couple of minutes, Mandy is asking him personal and inappropriate questions and Ian is answering them with way too much honesty. Just as expected, within minutes they sound like best friends. He doesn’t mind one fucking bit. Eventually he pulls the phone back off Ian and promises to call again as soon as they know what they are doing. Then it’s just him and Ian with one less burden to deal with. Mandy is safe.

*****

Ian is beaming after his conversation with Mandy. She reminds him so much of Mickey, and he has a mental picture of how she looks in his head. He misses his family, and he wants to call them, but he knows that he can’t. Not yet, anyway. If his family is questioned by the military about his whereabouts, they would have to lie, and he doesn’t want to put them in that position. The reality of their situation is weighing deeply, and he doesn’t have the strength to face it just yet.

“Let’s get cleaned up and sleep in this beautiful soft bed,” he says, grabbing Mickey’s hand and the toiletries and leading them into the bathroom. He unpacks all the toiletries and hands Mickey a toothbrush. They brush for a long time, smiling at each other like morons. Stripping each other out of their filthy clothes, they leave them on the floor in a pile before stepping into the shower.

They moan at the sensation of the hot water hitting their bodies, sounding like porn stars. Ian has never appreciated a shower more in his life. He takes the soap and starts lathering Mickey up—starting with his chest and arms and working his way around every square inch of skin. It’s the simplest of pleasures, caring for his Omega, and he places soft kisses and gentle licks wherever he goes. Mickey watches him, eyes full of love, thoughts filled with pleasure. Even though Mickey’s cock is half hard, it’s not about sex. It’s about adoration, and nurturing what is his, what he places above all else in this world.

When he finishes, Mickey takes the soap from him and begins with his back. The way Mickey’s hands slide across his skin makes him sigh, the tightness in his muscles flowing away along with the water cascading down his body. They don’t talk because there’s no need, they understand each other on a primal level, two souls meant to be bonded. Mickey gets to his knees and presses little kisses to his stomach as he cleans his cock and balls, and soaps gently between his ass cheeks.

They wash each other’s hair and then kiss. It’s deep and sensual, yet gentle and slow. It’s the two of them truly relaxed, taking their time to savour each other—the softness of their lips, the wet warmth of their tongues, flesh pressed against flesh, their scents mixing in perfect harmony. They continue until the water runs cold, completely lost in each other’s arms.

Once out of the shower, he throws a towel around his hips and dries Mickey off.

_I can fuckin’ dry myself, Ian._

He raises one eyebrow at Mickey. _You’re my Omega and I will fucking dry you if I want._

Ian laughs when Mickey’s dick twitches in response. Mickey may be the most badass Omega he’s ever met, but Mickey gets fucking turned on when Ian gets dominant. And the thought of Mickey all submissive, tied up, and spread open for him sends pleasure straight to his cock.

Mickey bites his bottom lip, then whispers, “Yes, Alpha. Want that.”

He leans forward, licking over Mickey’s scent gland then inhaling before taking his mouth to Mickey’s ear, “And you shall have it all, Omega. Patience. But right now, I need to shave.” Reaching for the shavers, he is stopped by a hand wrapping around his wrist.

“Don’t,” Mickey says, reaching up and cupping his jaw, thumb stroking through his beard. “It’s sexy and I fuckin’ like it.”

“Well then, I at least got to trim it and neaten it up.”

“Okay, I’ll do it. Let me grab the chair from the other room.”

Mickey leaves and quickly returns with one of the dining chairs that accompanies the two-person table. “Sit.”

Ian is happy to let his Omega take some control and takes a seat as Mickey wraps a towel around his shoulders. “You bought clippers, you planning on giving yourself a buzz-cut too?”

“I was. Haven’t had anything else since I joined the army. Don’t tell me, you want me to keep it longer?”

Mickey blushes and Ian’s mind is flooded with his Omega’s fantasy; where Mickey face fucks him while yanking on his red hair. “I see I’ve been neglecting that thick little Omega cock, haven’t I? I can keep it longer. You keep surprising me, Mickey. So you’re a switch then, aren’t you? Not your everyday Omega - you like to take turns being dom and sub.”

Mickey uses the clippers to trim Ian’s beard back as he thinks about what his Alpha just said. When Mickey is finished, he sits down in his lap, straddling him and running his fingers through his beard. “I don’t know what I am. You’re my first, you know that. But I like the sound of you tying me up and holding me down, and I also get turned on thinking about controlling you. You know, having you...”

Mickey looks away. Ian already knows what he’s thinking, but he wants Mickey to be able to express what he likes, what he wants. “Mickey,” he says, squeezing his Omega’s ass, “Look at me, baby. You can ask for whatever you want. I am your first and we should indulge all your fantasies. I’m not like a lot of Alphas—yeah, I enjoy being dominant, but I am more than happy to let you take control if it turns you on. Seeing you like that brings me so much pleasure. Feel me getting hard just thinking bout it?”

Mickey smirks at him and rolls his hips, their cocks rubbing together.

“Fucking tease. Now tell me. What else turns you on?”

“I like being on top and controlling it—you know the pace and how deep it is. Fuck, I want to ride your face. I want to be in control of when you cum sometimes. I like the idea of having power over you as much as I like surrendering to you. Does that make any fucking sense?”

Ian is still stuck on the image of Mickey riding his face, sugary slick covering his lips and cheeks and dripping down his chin as Mickey fucks himself senseless on his tongue. Holy fuck! He pulls Mickey to him and bites into his neck as they rut against each other. 

Mickey is the first to pull away, panting and eyes dark. “Hold that thought, I want to shave. Still feel dirty.”

Ian stands up with Mickey in his arms, then turns around, placing Mickey down in the chair. He fills up the bathroom sink with warm water and lathers Mickey’s beard with shaving cream. His dick is throbbing, and he wants Mickey so bad, but he also gets a kick out of holding off, knowing the longer the build up the more he’ll enjoy it. He shaves Mickey’s beard off, loving the glide up over his exposed throat, loves the way Mickey trusts him, loves the intimacy. When Ian’s almost finished, Mickey opens the towel that is draped around his waist and strokes his own dick.

“So fucking sexy, babe,” he says, taking the wash cloth and gently wiping away any remaining shaving cream from Mickey’s face. The skin is soft and smooth under his hands. He leans down and licks into Mickey’s slit, gathering the ample pre-cum, moaning at the taste of his Omega on his tongue. Sweeping up, he attacks Mickey’s mouth, pushing his tongue inside and swirling it around. The scent of slick permeates the room, and he wants nothing more than to have his Omega in every possible way.

Dropping his own towel to the floor, he picks Mickey up and carries him into the bedroom. He loves the way Mickey clings to him, legs tight around his waist and tongue licking down his neck. One thing he loves about being an Alpha is his strength, and he considers fucking Mickey up against the wall.

_Later, Ian, I want us in clean sheets in the bed right now._

_Baby, you take whatever you want._ Ian leans down and pulls the blankets back before lowering Mickey onto the bed.

Mickey pulls him down on top and they kiss and kiss as he rocks against his mate. Their minds are almost quiet, lost in the physical sensations until Mickey unexpectantly rolls him and sits up with a heated look on his face. “Do whatever you want to me, Mickey,” he pants, excited at the prospect of Mickey taking control.

Without hesitation, Mickey stands up, turns around and kneels back down over his face. He reaches up and spreads Mickey’s ass cheeks apart, his hole glistening with slick. “Lower down baby, give me your sweet ass.” What Mickey does has him struggling not to cum. His sexy Omega sinks down onto his tongue and then circles his hips—teasing himself as Ian’s tongue dips in and out with every rotation. It sends him wild with want as Mickey hums his satisfaction. “Oh fuck, Mickey. You taste so good. Please baby, give me more.” Mickey obliges him and lowers further, rocking his hips backwards and forwards. His tongue is sweeping up and down his Omega’s crack, lapping at the slick flowing out of Mickey’s eager hole.

When he cannot take it anymore, he pulls Mickey down and buries his tongue inside him, swirling it around. Mickey moans like a whore and Ian bucks his hips up in desperation. Mickey starts to ride his face in earnest, bouncing up and down on his tongue. Ian wonders if he can stop himself from cumming, almost giving up hope when Mickey grabs his cock and pumps it hard.

“Oh Ian, my Alpha, fuck it feels so good.”

Ian can only moan as Mickey takes his pleasure. Without warning, Mickey stands up and turns around, one foot on each side of his thighs. “Sit up,” Mickey says, commanding him. Ian growls then licks around his lips trying to get more slick into his mouth. Mickey leans forward and grabs him by the hair and pulls him up to sitting. Ian lets out another growl, almost a snarl at Mickey’s dominance, but the truth is it turns him on. He’s never let go like this, never been used for an Omega’s pleasure before, but this is his Omega and it unleashes something inside him. It’s erotic and intoxicating.

“Suck my cock, Alpha.” Ian opens his mouth and Mickey slides his dick in. “Gonna fuck that pretty face.” Ian sucks hard as Mickey thrusts in and out of his mouth. He hasn’t given all that many blow jobs in his time, normally receiving them, but watching Mickey moan and bite down on his lip is a sight to behold. Taking his hand up between Mickey’s legs, he notes the slick running down Mickey’s thighs before thrusting two fingers inside his Omega’s sweet hole. He finger fucks Mickey hard, rubbing against his prostate.

“Fuuuuck!” Mickey screams as he shoots his load deep down his throat. Mickey is still shuddering when he pulls his sensitive dick out, but Ian isn’t finished. He grabs Mickey and slams him down hard on his stomach, pining his arms above his head and spreading his legs open with his feet. His cock is balls deep inside his Omega in seconds, his full body weight over him as he bites into his neck. He fucks Mickey so hard, the desire to cum in his mate his only thought.

“Ian, you fuck me so good,” Mickey says, voice muffled into the mattress. “Deeper Alpha, fuck me deeper. Put your seed in me. Cum in me, want to feel it, Ian.”

Ian’s knot expands quicker than ever before, and he locks inside, where he belongs. He cums hard, trying to get even further inside. They are both drowned in sweat. Mickey cries out and cums again, rutting against the mattress. Ian has a few seconds to catch his breath before he cums again.

“Mickey, Mickey, I love you baby,” he cries, as he peppers kisses to his Omega’s neck and shoulders.

“I love you too, Ian. Fill me up so good. So perfect, my Alpha.”

Ian rolls them so they are spooning. His knot feels bigger than normal and he thinks they will be joined for a few minutes before it goes down. They both begin to drift off to sleep, their hearts full and bodies sated. He is almost asleep when he hears Mickey. _Want to have your pups one day, Ian._

Ian almost cries, his emotions so heightened. _I want that too, baby._

*****

When Mickey wakes up, he realises two things. One, they have been asleep for hours and it is dark outside. And two, they haven’t moved in their sleep and Ian’s cock is still inside his ass. No wonder he slept like a baby. He can’t even explain the emotions he feels waking up still joined like that. Although, it’s probably going to sting when Ian pulls out. Mickey pats Ian on the thigh, “Ian, wake up babe. Fucking starving.”

Ian stirs, pressing lips to his neck, then breathing him in. Within seconds, Ian is pushing against his ass, his cock hardening inside him. “Holy fuck, Ian. No more sex, you horny bitch. I wanna eat. Then you can make love to me later.”

“Yeah? All soft and slow. You like it when I take care of you like that?” Ian’s voice is thick with sleep, deep and sexy.

“You know I do. Now pull out real slow, you fucking wrecked my ass.”

Ian does, both of them hissing at the sensitivity. “Let’s shower again and then find a place to get dinner.”

*

Later in the evening, Mickey knows it’s time they face reality. He needs to call Colin back tomorrow and let him know what they plan to do. Mickey doesn’t want Ian to give up his life—his family, his military career—just for him. As soon as the thoughts enter his head, Ian’s face turns to stone, the anger rolling off him in spades.

Ian gets up off the bed abruptly. “What the fuck are you even thinking, Mickey? You are _my_ Omega. You belong to _me_. And I will decide for us.”

“Fuck you will!’ he says, standing up to face Ian. “The right thing to do is for me to turn myself in. You love being a Ranger. You love and need your family in your life. Have you even stopped to think about the sacrifice you would be making?”

“Fuck you, Mickey! We are bonded now. I can’t be separated from you! I can’t see you once a week behind a piece of glass for years on end. I couldn’t survive it. I can’t live without you!”

“I don’t want you to be on the run for your entire life because of me! What sort of fucking way is that live? Looking over your shoulder all the time.” Mickey closes his eyes and tries to shield his thoughts so he can lie straight to Ian’s face. To hurt him, to make him do what’s right. “You only bonded with me cos you thought you were gonna die.”

The look on Ian’s face breaks his heart. He may as well have shot him. The anguish, the hurt, the confusion, all come through as feelings, not words. 

“I bonded with you cos I love you. Why would you say that? Is it because that was the only reason you bonded with me?” Tears fall down Ian’s cheeks in a constant stream. And Mickey knows he can’t do it. He can’t hurt his Alpha like this. Maybe he’s selfish, he doesn’t know. He stops shielding his thoughts. “No, no,” he says, shaking his head as he cries too. “I love you more than fucking air. I just don’t want you to regret this. Regret choosing me.”

Ian strides across the room and sweeps him up into his arms. “I will never regret choosing you, Mickey. I choose you in this life and every one thereafter.”

“I’m sorry I did that to you. I thought I was doing what was right for you. I love you so fucking much.”

Ian holds his face and kisses him like he’s make of porcelain, then leads them back to the bed to sit down again. “We have to figure out what the fuck we’re going to do. Where we’re going to go. Live.”

“Our family has a lot of illegal contacts. Colin can get us new identities, but it will cost a fuckton of money. Colin has access to the family accounts so if he agrees then we can almost go anywhere. We know the best ID forger in the US. Both my Pops and Colin have aliases and travelled in and out of the US with them.” Mickey places his hand over Ian’s thigh. “Ian, we can go somewhere remote, start again. But it might be years before you can contact your family. We wouldn’t be able to risk it. Is that something you can do?”

“For us to be together. A chance at a life. A family. Yes. Fucking yes!”

**FREE, DAY 2**

Ian made love to him as promised, and they got a full night’s sleep in the comfortable bed in complete darkness. It was heaven. Around 10am they head back to the bank and pick up the money Colin has transferred to them. They take a trip to the supermarket to get more food and lug it back to the motel.

Mickey calls Colin around noon to discuss what they’d like to do. He’s nervous. If Colin won’t do this for them—both return to the U.S. and spend the money—then they are fucked. He and Colin have always got along okay, but they’ve never been close like him and Mandy. Or even Iggy. If he’s being honest, he’s surprised Colin is okay with him being gay.

“Hey Colin.”

“Mick, you talked it out yet? You decided?”

“Yeah, we have. But we need your help.”

“Shoot, tell me what I can do.”

“We want to get new ID’s. Live somewhere remote. Start a new life together. Do you think you could get Antonio to do them for us?”

The line is silent for a few seconds and all Mickey can hear is Colin breathing. He waits.

“It’s gonna cost a lot, Mick. I’ll have to go back to the U.S. and then smuggle them back over here. You’ll have to meet me in Jordan. I can’t risk flying into Syria. Also, you know Ian can’t contact anyone in the U.S.?”

“Yeah, he knows, I told him. If he writes a letter to his family, will you get it to them?”

“Yeah, Mick. I can do that. I’ll miss ya. Mandy will be fucking mad. She was hoping to see you again.”

Mickey takes a hand to his forehead; he doesn’t want to think about never seeing Mandy again. “Can you contact Antonia and get a timeframe? We don’t want to stay here too long.”

“Will do. What is Ian’s surname and rank so Antonia can get a photo for the docs?”

“1st Lieutenant Ian Clayton Gallagher.”

“Okay, will be in contact as soon as I have more concrete information.”

“Thanks, bro.”

*

That night, Colin calls back. Antonio has agreed to do their docs for one hundred grand—passports, social security, driver’s licence and credit cards. Colin is going to put some money in an off-shore account to cover air fares and accommodation until they can get settled and find jobs. They are to meet Colin in Jordan in seven days after he picks up the docs from Antonio in 5 days. It will be a nerve-wracking week—he doesn’t know what they will do if Colin is caught smuggling fake documents out of the US.

“Ian, so I guess we should discuss where we’re going to live. We’ve got seven days to decide.”

Ian pulls him into his lap. “Well, its gotta be by a beach, doesn’t it? That’s what you said when I asked you to picture our lives together.”

“Yeah, by the beach. I like the sound of that.”

“Hey, how the fuck are they making documents for me without my photo?”

“Fucking easy. Antonio has hackers on his payroll. They’ll access the military data base and get your official photo ID.”

“You fucking serious?”

“You have met me, yeah? Mickey Milkovich, illegal arms dealer.”

“Fucking smartass.”

Ian has him on the floor and pinned in seconds.

**FREE, DAYS 3 & 4 **

When they wake up on the third day, Ian feels weird. He’s a little hot and angry and just not himself. They’ve worked out how to sneak across the border into Jordan and plan on leaving in three days. In the meantime, they are just hanging out in their room, eating, enjoying each other, and getting their strength back. Around lunchtime, after alternating between yelling at Mickey and kissing and rubbing his scent all over him, it dawns on Ian what the problem is. And he fucking panics.

“Shit Mick. Fucking hell. With everything going on, I totally forgot. Jesus fucking Christ. How much food do we have? And water?” He’s rummaging through their food stash and checking the small bar fridge in the room.

“Ian, what the fuck is going on? I can’t even understand your thoughts, they’re all fucked up and frantic.”

He stops and grabs Mickey by the shoulders, “Mickey, I’m overdue for my rut suppressant injection. I’m going into a rut. Like soon. Within hours. Oh fuck. I haven’t had one since before I joined the army. What if I’m too rough and can’t control myself?”

“Ian, stop. You won’t be too rough. Plus, I think I like it rough. You stay here. I’ll take a taxi down to the grocery store and get us supplies and be back before you know it.”

He growls aggressively. He doesn’t want his Omega out of his sight, doesn’t want another man looking at what’s his. “Fuck no, we go together.”

*

The rut lasts almost 48 hours and Ian fucks his Omega within an inch of his life. Luckily for Ian, Mickey loves every minute of it. They are drunk on lust and Ian lets his dominant side take over. He ties Mickey up—first just his arms and then his arms and legs. He shreds one of their shirts to fashion ropes and ties Mickey’s legs apart while face down on the bed. It’s lewd and dirty and he alternates between rimming his Omega’s pretty pink ass and pounding his hole raw.

He fucks Mickey up against the wall and in the shower. He gags him and blindfolds him. Mickey asks for more, so he happily obliges. He spanks Mickey’s ass until it glows red and he fucks his mouth with his big alpha cock—knotting in his Omega’s mouth for the first time. Mickey moans around his giant knot as he shoots load after load down his throat. When Ian calls his Omega a cum slut, Mickey jerks himself off until he climaxes while begging Ian to cum on his face.

They mark each other up—biting, sucking and scratching each other, trying to get inside, trying to own, and possess. It’s a completely different experience to Mickey’s heat where his priority was to care for Mickey and keep him content and sexually fulfilled. This is pure animal lust. If they choose not to go back on suppressants and Mickey goes into heat again, it will trigger his rut. God only knows what they will do to each other if that happens. Being bonded and in love makes this rut the most intense sexual experience of his life.

As the rut winds down, logical thoughts surface, and his mood softens. He washes Mickey gently in the shower. He kisses him slow and holds him with care. He massages Mickey’s aching muscles and feeds him dinner in bed. Then he becomes worried. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks when night closes in and they are cuddling in bed.

Mickey giggles at him like a fucking schoolgirl. “No, Ian. It was fuckin’ amazing. I mean my ass is on fire and every muscle in my body is sore, and my hole is gonna be a little loose for a few days, but you turned me out, babe.”

“Really? Cos it was incredible for me.”

“You’re a sexy badass motherfucker and I like you being all dominant. Holding me down, being rough with me, manhandling me, it fuckin’ turns me on.”

“You like it when I’m soft with you too though?”

“You know I do. I like it when you make love to me—it’s not so much about sex then, but about our bond, our love.”

Mickey licks across his lips and he opens up to let him in. Their lips are sore and swollen, but it doesn’t stop them kissing. He still can’t believe Mickey is his, and he holds him tight, never letting go, not once in the night.

**FREE, DAY 6**

On their sixth day free, they set off for Jordan, for their future. They are both scared and excited. What they are doing is dangerous, and there is every chance they will fail. But they’ve got to try.

Ian has written a letter to his family. And cried over his loss. He knows there will be many more tears to come. But he is at peace with his choice. He belongs to Mickey. They spent hours considering countries, finally narrowing it down to one. Then more time searching towns until they decided. They know where they are going. They are leaving their pasts behind, shedding their old selves, and re-emerging anew. Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading - only one chapter to go! I will still aim for Monday. 
> 
> Please kudos and comment - it puts a smile on my face!  
> Take care!  
> Rachael x


	11. What you and I have makes me free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Mickey, free for 359 days!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE THANK YOU TO ALL THE READERS WHO HAVE BEEN ON THIS JOURNEY WITH ME WHILE IT'S A WIP! AN EXTRA SPECIAL THANK YOU TO THOSE THAT COMMENT REGULARLY - IT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME!! I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS LAST CHAPTER - WITH A BONUS EPILOGUE AT THE END!!
> 
> REMINDERS:  
> * Italics for their telepathic conversations
> 
> TEXT MESSAGES:  
> Mickey's are in bold  
> Ian's are in bold italic.

**FREE, DAY 359**

“Can I please have a chocolate chip ice cream in a cone?” the little blonde boy asks, clinging to his mother’s hand.

“Of course you can. One scoop or two?”

“Oh, he’ll just have one,” the mother says.

Ian scoops up the choc chip ice cream and pushes it into the cone. It’s Friday and they are about to close shop for the day. Mickey is dragging the hire equipment in for the night as he finishes up with this last customer. “That will be three-fifty thank you,” he says, passing the cone to the little boy.

The mother passes over the money and he thanks her and waves goodbye to the boy. Once they are gone, he turns the sign over to ‘closed’ and begins doing the daily takings. Mickey has been acting weird all day and shielding his thoughts. They can both do that now with a modicum of success, and it’s necessary when they have an argument, so they don’t say hurtful things to each other. They do bicker regularly, but it’s never serious and always ends with some intense fucking. As Mickey’s Alpha, he can command his Omega to tell him, and Mickey will obey, but he only resorts to such measures when absolutely necessary.

They’ve been here almost a year and life is as close to perfect as it could be. After what they went through, they needed a little peace. A quiet life. They both had night terrors for many months, and Mickey still has panic attacks if he finds himself in a room with all the doors and windows closed. But they are getting better, they have each other, and they barely separate. For some couples it would be suffocating, but for them it’s the opposite. It is only when they are together that they can breathe easy. Ian needs to know Mickey is safe and protected and for that he has to see him, touch him, smell him, or hear his thoughts.

They discovered that their telepathy diminishes the farther apart they are. The greatest distance they’ve tested is 15 miles. He could still feel Mickey’s mood, but it was fading, and that made his chest constrict with fear. So he’d turned around and went home to his Omega’s embrace. Now they keep it to 10 miles or fewer. If they need to travel further, then they go together—no exceptions.

Ian finishes up in the shop and heads outside. Normally it’s his job to put all the equipment away and Mickey does the financial stuff, but today his grumpy little Omega insisted on swapping. “Mick, I’m done inside. You need anything or shall I lock up now?”

Mickey puts the last surfboard into the hire shop and stops to wipe the sweat off his forehead. His Omega is tanned, only board shorts on with his muscular chest on show.

Without looking at him, Mickey says, “My keys and cell are on top of the office fridge.”

“Okay, I’ll grab them babe.” Ian heads back inside, wondering if he’s done something wrong and is in Mickey’s bad books. They have their anniversary in two days, and he wants it to be special. 

Their business by the beach is booming and looking out across the Indian Ocean every day is just one of the perks. They have a little cafe that sells ice-creams, snacks, drinks and coffees. Next to that is the hire shop where tourists can hire paddle boards, surf boards, dirt bikes, canoes, kites, beach cricket sets, balls, you name it. The town is a popular tourist destination called Cable Beach—population 6583—on the coast of Western Australia. They live close to the beach in a quaint little cottage, with no neighbours in sight.

When they first arrived, they rented a place and worked odd jobs. Colin had outdone himself and put 100 grand in the offshore account. Neither of them expected it, but they weren’t going to say no. One day they were taking a stroll down the beach and noticed a ‘for sale’ sign above the hire shop. The owners were an old couple in their 70s and eager to retire and move to Perth to be around their children. So when they looked over the books and discovered the asking price of 50 grand was a steal, they bought it.

They’re not wealthy, but they’ve got everything they need. The business profits have increased since they took over, and now they only work four days a week—hiring staff to work the other days. They have a mortgage on their house, but they own their car outright. It’s a hell of a lot more than he ever had growing up, and he’s proud of the life they are building.

He puts his wallet in one pocket and his cell in the other, picks up his keys, then grabs Mickey’s things off the fridge. His Omega meets him at the door and takes his keys to lock the hire shop while he secures the café. Mickey is thinking about what they are going to have for dinner, and Ian wonders when his patience is going to run out on Mickey’s charade.

They head to the car park and get into their car, turning the air con on full blast. As Ian turns onto the main road, he decides enough is enough. “Are you angry at me, Omega?”

“What? Fuck no, Ian. I’ve just got a lot on my mind and maybe I don’t want to share it with you yet. Is that okay by you?”

“And since when do we have secrets from each other?”

“It’s not a fuckin’ secret. Jesus Ian, maybe I’m trying to organise something for our anniversary, and I don’t want you to know. Wouldn’t you like a surprise?”

This would make perfect sense, but Mickey’s mood doesn’t match the explanation. He’s about to question his mate further when they are interrupted by an incoming call.

Mickey sees who it is and answers on the car’s Bluetooth. “Fuckhead, you better not be calling to say you can’t work on Sunday.”

“Shut up, asswipe. Of course not. All you two have been talking about the last two weeks is your fucking bonding anniversary. The whole of W.A must know about it by now. Anyway, I’m calling for Ian, not you.”

“Stop calling him Ian. You might slip up in front of someone.”

“You call him Ian all the time, dipshit.”

“Not when anyone’s around, I don’t.”

“Who the fuck is around Mick? We’re on a call. I’m at home and you two are driving.”

Ian smiles as he listens to the siblings argue. It never gets old. He and Mandy—or should he say Melanie—are best friends. He loves her to pieces. She drags him on clothes shopping expeditions and makes him listen to her outrageous dating stories. Mandy arrived two months after them with her new identity—Melanie Ruben. Mickey is Michael Ruben so they can still call him Mickey for short. Ian got given Cameron O’Connor. At first, he didn’t like it, but Mickey says Cam suits him and it’s grown on him over time. Mickey still calls him Ian when they are alone or conversing telepathically, and a name change is a small price to pay for freedom.

Mandy lives in an apartment in Broome, about a 20-minute drive from their house in Cable Beach. She works part-time in a fashion store and part-time for them, while she dates every Aussie bloke that comes her way. The only thing missing from his life is his siblings, but he never gives up hope that he might see them again someday.

Mickey and Colin have email accounts they use to stay in contact, but Mickey can’t risk logging in where they live. The plan is to check in every six months for updates. Four months ago, they took a ‘holiday’ to Sydney and Mickey logged into the email in the public library. The military still has Ian’s case listed as ‘missing in action.’ For Mickey, the situation is better. CIA reports state that it is presumed all members of the Ukraine Five were killed in the bombing. Ian never thought he would wish for the military to declare him ‘presumed dead’ and bury him, but that’s what needs to happen if he’s ever going to speak to or see his family again. They plan to take a ‘holiday’ to Melbourne in another two months and he’s praying for some good news.

A warm hand squeezes his thigh. _It will happen, Ian. And I’m sorry._

He picks up Mickey’s hand and presses his lips to his mate’s palm. _I know. I love you and you have nothing to be sorry for._ He pulls into their driveway and parks under a tree for shade. Mandy has moved onto bitching about a work colleague.

“Mands,” he says, interrupting her, “what did you call for?”

“Oh fuck, I almost forgot. I want to try this new combat fitness class at the gym next Wednesday night and want you to come with me.”

Ian glances at Mickey.

 _Fuck yeah, whatever. But you better give me a good dicking down when you get home._

“Sure, Mands. Mickey says I can go.”

Mandy bursts out laughing, “Jesus Ian, your Omega’s got you wrapped around his little finger.”

“Oh don’t you worry Mands, Mickey’s usually got his mouth wrapped around my-”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Ian!” Mickey yells.

“Sorry babe. She was implying I’m ass-whipped by my bossy little Omega.”

“Well, there is some truth in that,” Mickey says, shrugging his shoulders. “And who you fuckin’ calling little?”

Ian leans across and captures Mickey’s lips, licking eagerly into his mate’s mouth and moaning at the taste. Mickey lets out a little hum, almost giggles, and reaches for his cock.

“Oh for the love of God, you two never stop. I’m out.” Mandy ends the call, and they make out in the front seat of the car for a few minutes. Maybe he’s wrong and Mickey is just planning a surprise.

*

After ordering pizza for dinner and watching a movie, they head to bed early—Saturday is a busy day for them, and they need to be up at 6am.

Mickey is already in bed, lying naked on his stomach when Ian slips in next to him. He rolls on top and spreads Mickey’s legs apart with his feet. Nuzzling into his neck, he threads their hands together and whispers in Mickey’s ear, “How you want it, baby? Wriggling a little, he manages gets his dick between Mickey’s ass cheeks and rocks his hips. His Omega is already turned on and wet for him, soft moans escaping his mate’s lips as the head of his cock slides across Mickey’s rim.

Their sex life has only gotten better with time and they fuck every day, sometimes multiple times. He’s fucked Mickey on the beach, over the counter in the café and on the veranda of their cottage. They often indulge in BDSM, and his Omega continues to entice him into being submissive occasionally. They never went back on suppressants—their heat and rut now in sync and something they look forward to. Although broken furniture, bruises and scratches, and sensitive and sore genitals are some less favourable side effects.

Mickey’s eyes flutter closed as he answers, “Want my Alpha to make love to me, soft and slow.” Mickey tilts his ass up in anticipation and Ian just wants to slip straight into his Omega.

“Okay baby, roll on your side,” he says, lifting his weight off and resettling behind Mickey, spooning him. Ian loves this position—and they often make love this way, especially when they wake up in the middle of the night, their bodies aching for each other.

Mickey tilts his head back and they kiss deeply, tongues entwined. When Mickey lifts his leg up, opening himself, offering himself, Ian guides his throbbing cock inside, groaning with pleasure. Soon he is thrusting in long, smooth strokes. Mickey is boneless and blissful and putty in his arms. He alternates between holding Mickey close to his chest while whispering praises and love declarations in his ear, and delicately stroking through the dark hair around his cock, fondling his balls and twirling his thumb around the head of his Omega’s leaking shaft. It sends Mickey crazy, and he is rewarded with sloppy, wet, sucking kisses and airy whines.

When they cum—and they cum together - he bites hard into Mickey’s scent gland. Mickey always cums long and hard when he does this, and his Omega runs memories of when they bonded; the moment etched into their hearts and minds.

**FREE, DAY 360**

Mickey wakes early. He picks his cell up off the nightstand and checks the time—5.55am. Ian is plastered to his back, and still sound asleep. He needs to think, uninterrupted, before his Alpha is awake and in his head.

Yesterday he started feeling weird. Different. Well, to put it bluntly, his nipples have become ultra-sensitive, food smells disgusting, and he feels a bit nauseous. Eating the pizza last night had been a challenge, to say the least. Now he’s wondering if he’s pregnant. And he’s freaking out.

A few months ago, they had a discussion about starting a family. He told Ian he didn’t feel ready, but after a few weeks the idea no longer scared the shit out of him, and he made an appointment with the doctor. Keeping it from Ian was an elaborate process, but somehow, he managed it, not wanting to get his Alpha’s hopes up. The Doctor removed his contraceptive implant but told him it might take a while to get pregnant since he’d had it for so long. Then Mickey kind of forgot about it. He didn’t think for a single second he would get knocked up during his first heat.

He decides to tell Ian he feels sick - which is close to the truth - so he can get one of those home pregnancy tests. Maybe it’s wrong for him to do this on his own, but if he is pregnant, he wants time to process it. He also knows how much Ian wants to start a family and is missing his siblings. The last thing he wants is to get Ian excited only to have him disappointed because it’s a false alarm.

The alarm sounds and Ian is quickly alert, pulling him in for a hug and kissing him on the temple. Once a soldier, always a soldier. “Morning baby. You sleep well?”

“Actually, I don’t feel so good. Been awake for a while. Think I’ve caught the flu or something,” he says, staying focussed on the feeling of nausea in his stomach.

“Oh shit, Mick. I hope you’ll be okay for our anniversary tomorrow.” Ian is feeling his forehead and looking at him with concern. “You don’t seem to be running a temperature.”

“Nah, it’s not that bad. Maybe just an upset stomach. Do you think I could rest this morning and I’ll come in later?”

“Course baby. I’ll phone one of the casuals to come in. You stay home and rest. You want some breakfast?”

“Fuck no. Maybe a cup of tea.”

Ian frowns at him. “You never drink tea. You sure you want tea?”

“Yeah, want something warm but not too strong.”

Ian swings his long legs out of bed and heads to the kitchen. Mickey is exhausted keeping his true thoughts shielded, and he regrets asking for the tea because that just means it will be longer before Ian leaves for work.

A few minutes later, Ian brings him his tea, and he sits up in bed sipping on it while he listens to Ian go about his morning routine. His Alpha is suspicious, just as he was yesterday, and knows he is shielding his thoughts.

_Stop fuckin’ listening to me I don’t want to spoil your anniversary surprise, you fucker._

_Fine. Just get better. I don’t like it when you’re sick._

Mickey closes his eyes and fantasises about shooting guns. He misses it and it keeps his thoughts focussed.

Finally Ian comes back into the bedroom and kisses him goodbye. It takes another fifteen minutes until he can no longer hear Ian’s thoughts and they become more like a feeling. Thank fuck! Mickey calls for an uber and gets ready while he waits for it to arrive.

An hour later he’s back at home in the bathroom reading the pregnancy test instructions. Seems simple enough—piss on the stick and wait two minutes. One line he’s not pregnant and two lines he is. His heart is jack hammering in his chest like he’s run a marathon. He pulls his dick out and pisses, his hands shaking. Then he walks out of the room and sits on the bed, setting his cell timer to two minutes.

Ian’s mood has gone from mildly concerned to extremely anxious and Mickey panics for a moment, thinking Ian may jump in the car and rush home. Picking up his cell, he phones Ian; it’s answered on the third ring.

“Mick, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just threw up and you know how much I hate that. Could tell you were worried. But it’s all good. Might have to throw up again soon, but I’m okay. I’ll keep you updated.”

“I can come home and look after you.”

“No, don’t be stupid. I think once I get it all up, I’ll feel better. Stop worrying so much, you pussy. Love you. Bye.”

“Love you too, baby. Bye.”

Mickey ends the call just before the timer goes off.

Fuck fuck fuck. Shit fuck. Shit.

He walks back to the bathroom but stops at the door. This is it. The moment their lives could change forever. And he realises he wants it; realises he’s going to cry like a fucking bitch if there aren’t two lines on that stick. He places a hand to his stomach, trying to imagine a pup growing in there. A pup that would be the product of his and Ian’s love, of their bond. Fuck! A tear rolls down his face and he quickly wipes it away.

He feels so sick and his legs are shaking. His breathing is laboured and shallow, and it feels a lot like the start of a panic attack. Ian will have a breakdown at work if he doesn’t get his shit together. Forcing his legs to move, he takes a few steps into the bathroom and glances down.

Two lines.

There’s two fucking lines and he’s crying like a newborn baby and laughing at the same time. He runs back into the bedroom and texts Ian a stupid message…

**Sorry for the mood swings. I threw up again and then I just got confirmation about the anniversary surprise and I’m so fucking happy about it. You’re gonna love it.**

He lies down on the bed and rubs his stomach in circles as it sinks in. Part of him would like to keep it a secret and make it their anniversary surprise, but there’s no way he can keep this from Ian. He would fucking burst. He picks up his cell and sends another text…

**Feel much better now I’ve thrown up. I’ll bring you down some lunch. Meet me at our spot at 12.**

**_Mick, you’re acting weird. You’ve got some explaining to do. You staying to work after lunch?_ **

**Doubt it. Got stuff to do for tomorrow. And don’t want to overdo it and get sick again.**

**_See you soon_ **

Mickey spends the morning googling about male omega pregnancies and breaks out in a cold sweat frequently. Then he makes sandwiches for lunch and calls an uber again. Their ‘spot’ is at the end of the main beach, near the rocks. They’ve made love there in the off-season when there're fewer tourists around and it’s their favourite part of the beach.

Mickey gets there five minutes early and continues to focus his thoughts on what he’s made for lunch as Ian strolls up the beach looking like a fucking model. Sometimes he is blown away by how beautiful he is, and Ian smiles back at him when he hears his thoughts. Ian is thinking about how much he loves his blue eyes, and his mouth, and Mickey breaks out into a laugh knowing where Ian’s train of thought goes the moment he focusses on his lips.

_No, I’m not sucking your dick here in the middle of the day, but I will tomorrow._

Ian is a few feet from him now, smirking at him suggestively. _Why not? I’d rim your ass right here, right now._

_I know you would you fuckin’ horny Alpha._

Ian pulls him into a hug and then kisses him. He thinks about how much he loves Ian.

“What’s going on, babe? I can feel you’re both anxious and excited and your thoughts are all over the place. What are you hiding from me, Omega?”

Ian is stressed and worried and confused, so Mickey places his hands across his belly and lets his thoughts flow. _I’m pregnant_ , _Alpha._

“What the fuck? How Mickey? I don’t understand.”

“I had the implant removed. I wanted to surprise you. Didn’t think it would happen this fast. Are you happy?”

“Happy? I’m fucking ecstatic!” Ian sweeps him up and spins him around. “I love you so fucking much my beautiful Omega.” Mickey cups Ian’s face and kisses him hard, letting the tears fall. He’s never seen Ian this excited, this happy. When Ian places him down, he drops to his knees, and peppers Mickey’s belly with kisses, “I love you too, my little one.”

Mickey runs his hands through Ian’s hair as his Alpha becomes emotional and sheds a few tears of his own. The sight of Ian protectively rubbing his alpha scent over his belly is something he will never forget. His mind wanders back to the first time he laid eyes on Lieutenant Ian Gallagher, in a concrete cell with no windows. That day he thought his life was over. Little did he know, it was the day his life began.

** EPILOGUE…. **

**FREE, DAY 2068**

Mickey is spreading out the giant beach blanket with the help of his little red-haired, blue-eyed girl. She looks exactly like Ian except for the blue eyes, and she’s as stubborn as him as well. He’s already one hundred percent sure she will present as alpha, even though she’s only four.

“Papa bear, put it closer to the water!” Monica says, frowning at him and trying to pull it towards the water’s edge.

“We can do that Mon, but when the tide comes in and all your buckets and spades get swept out to sea, I’m not saving them.”

“But Pup-paaaa,” Monica whines.

“Monica, listen to your Papa,” Ian says a little sternly as he catches up to them. Ian puts their picnic basket on the edge of the blanket and then lowers their very excited two-year-old down from his hip.

“Mon play, Mon play,” Aleksandr says, shuffling his feet in the sand and grabbing his sister’s hand.

“Not yet,” he says, kneeling down on the blanket and opening the picnic basket. “You two can sit your asses down and eat your sandwiches first.” Aleksandr is the opposite of Monica—he’s got black hair and a lot of Mickey’s features, but he has Ian’s green eyes. He’s a sweet, soft little boy and Mickey wonders if this is how he was before his dad began ridiculing him for not being masculine enough.

_Still sweet and soft to me, baby._

Mickey glances at Ian, and blushes like he did when they first met, almost 6 years ago. The love he has for Ian grows deeper with each passing year, and parenting has taught them how to support each other on a new level.

Once the kids have started on their food, he takes out two beers, handing one to his mate. “Did you hear from Lip yet?”

“Shit yeah, he called this morning when I was busy at the hire shop and then it went out of my mind. Everyone is confirmed except Fiona and her clan. But Lip said it’s looking hopeful.

“Don’t know where we’re gonna fit them all,” he says, passing the kids their drinks.

“They’re Gallagher’s—they’ll be fine all jammed in.”

A little over four years ago, Lieutenant Ian Gallagher was classified as ‘missing in action, presumed dead.’ There had been a military burial and Fiona had accepted the American flag on his behalf. It freaked Mickey out to know there was a grave with Ian’s name on it, but it enabled Ian to contact his family and that was all that mattered. At first, it was just by phone and then slowly over the years all his siblings had visited at some point. Now, for the first time, the entire Gallagher clan was coming for Christmas and a summer vacation. Complete with mates and spouses, and all of Monica and Aleksandr’s cousins.

They now live in a two story, two living area, four-bedroom house overlooking the ocean after selling their cottage when they got pregnant with Aleksandr. Even with the larger place, it will take military precision to pull off housing sixteen Gallagher’s.

Aleksandr gets up and crawls into Ian’s lap, running his chubby little fingers through his Daddy’s beard. “Daddy, can we pway sowdiers?” Mickey chuckles at his son’s still developing speech. It’s cute as fuck.

“Course we can, you can be the General and I’ll be your Captain.” Ian swings Aleksandr up onto his shoulders, the little boy squealing with delight. “You know Mick, Fi tells me I used to have trouble with my L’s too.”

Raising his eyebrows, he says, “Yeah, well you obviously figured out how to use that mouth and tongue of yours just fine.”

“Still should practise though.”

“You got something in mind?”

“You know I do.” Ian stands up with Aleksandr still on his shoulders, little hands wrapped around his head. “Let’s wear these two out so they go to sleep early tonight.”

“You got yourself deal, army,” he says, winking at his Alpha.

“Papa, I finished my sandwich,” Monica says. “Let’s collect shells and make a biiiiiiiiiig sandcastle with a moot around it.”

“It’s called a moat, baby girl,” he says, getting to his feet and taking her hand to help her up.

“No, Papa, it’s called a moot. I read it in a book at kinder. The water comes in and fills up the moot all around the castle. You don’t even know.” 

Mickey can only laugh at his know-it-all daughter. He loves his kids so fucking much. It changed him, becoming a dad, and for the better. At first he was worried he might be too tough on them, after having Terry as a parent. But he’s the opposite—he just wants to love them, hold them, cherish every fucking second. Keeping the kids in line falls to Ian most of the time, but his Alpha is built for it and is always fair and kind when setting rules and boundaries.

He can feel the love and contentment pouring off his mate as father and son play soldiers up and down the beach. Mickey’s ears are being blessed with his son’s giggles and squeals as he helps Monica spot the best shells for her sandcastle. Once his daughter is happy with her collection they get to work—he lets her take the lead so she can be independent and learn from her mistakes. He’s still thinking about having a third. Fuck, maybe he’s crazy to even think about it, but he knows Ian is happy with whatever he decides.

As he continues to chat with Monica about her elaborate architectural design, his mate’s thoughts filter through his mind like a radio playing softly in the background. Ian is thinking about when he was a soldier, reminiscing about the good times he had. Mickey knows their life is a gift and filled with happiness and love, but he worries that Ian lost a part of himself when he gave up his career to be with him. A sacrifice was made, and that can never be denied.

Ian swings Aleksandr up on his hip and walks over to them. They are both puffing and red faced with hair flying everywhere. When Ian sinks down next to him, he plants a firm kiss to his lips.

“What was that for?” he asks.

“Because I want you to know that what I found was a million times more important than what I lost. Not one single regret Mick. You are my Omega, and I am your Alpha and I will love you til my last breath.

“Fuck, that was some sappy shit but romantic as hell. I fuckin’ love you too.” Mickey grabs Ian around the neck and crashes their lips together. Ian lays him back onto the sand, kissing him, pressing their bodies together.

“See Alex! They are doing it again. Stop kissing you two and play!”

The next thing Mickey knows, two little bodies are on top of them, giggling and tickling and squishing in between. And he fuckin’ doesn’t mind at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Even though I am Australian, I have never been to Cable Beach - so I just used my imagination and my existing knowledge of Western Australia. (WA)  
> * I may have thrown some Australian-isms in - since they would have learnt some (but also still kept it mostly American - we use kilometres not miles, cell phones are called mobiles, kinder is maybe pre-k for you guys??? four year old school before starting actual school.) Bloke = man. Board shorts = shorts for the beach. Sometimes I want to write a one shot with them as Australians just so I don't have to constantly try and think American. LOL!
> 
> I set out to write an ABO that was a little different - using the omegaverse in which to set my main narrative, rather than just an ABO that focussed its story around an omegaverse. I did play fast and loose with the rules - this is a creative process and what's the point of being creative if you can't be creative? Anyway, I had fun weaving a lot of elements together, writing some action and letting these two fall in love again.  
> THANK YOU TO THE READERS THAT ALWAYS GIVE MY FICS 'A GO' - HUGS AND KISSES TO YOU!  
> PLEASE KUDOS AND LEAVE ME A FINAL COMMENT - DON'T BE SHY! 
> 
> I will return my attention to MEET ME AT THE TRACK now and get that one finished in the next couple of weeks. Subscribe, user subscribe so you don't miss updates!
> 
> Stay safe!  
> Rachael x


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